Behind Closed Doors
by phoebenpiper
Summary: A gunshot in the night. A locked door. A dead body. And a strange swirling light. Miss Marple has her work cut out for her as she tries to solve two mysteries: who committed the murder...and who are the seven strangers who seemingly arrived out of nowhere that night? A Miss Marple/Primeval crossover (& partial collaboration with Aithion). COMPLETED
1. Chapter 1

_Behind Closed Doors_

a Miss Marple/Primeval mystery

by phoebenpiper* (with much assistance from Aithion-see the author's note below)

...

[Author's note: This story was inspired by a 2004 production of _Agatha Christie's Marple: A Body in the Library_ which starred Jack Davenport as Superintendent Harper. (Incidentally, according to the internet, Jack Davenport is 1/4" shorter than Ben Mansfield, a fact that figures prominently in this story!) My friend Aithion & I brainstormed together to work out the original plot outline and write the first several chapters. However, after working several months together on this project, Aithion realised she had other stories that needed her attention and agreed to let me take over this project. I've since changed some of our original plot and rewritten the entire thing several times, but Aithion is still responsible for a huge portion of this project, and I'm so thankful that she has allowed me to finish it in my own fashion!]

...

_Prologue_

The early morning streets were bustling with life, the sun casting its rays about the city and illuminating the figure that walked towards the building on the corner. She was late, and she knew her father would be furious; after all, he was the one who had arranged everything. She had always hoped that when she married, she would do so for love, and so she was about to, for certainly no one could doubt the sincerity of her father's love for her fiance's money.

Her whole life she'd dreamt of one day getting married in a beautiful church. She'd envisioned herself at the altar, dressed in white lace, surrounded by family and friends, bouquets of flowers decorating the pews and filling the sanctuary with their fragrant scent. Unfortunately, it seemed today's wedding would be a far cry from all that, but under the circumstances, it was probably better this way: quiet, modest, discreet.

Her gloved hand reached out and turned the doorknob quickly, stepping inside and closing the door behind her before anyone noticed her disappearance. Having thus shut out the outside world, she didn't notice the way the brass sign on the wood outside, with 'Registrars Office' etched into the metal, suddenly darkened ominously as a cloud passed over the sun.

Safely inside, unaware of this omen, she ran her fingers nervously through her curls as her heart started to pound in her chest. This is it, she realised; I am about to be married.

The ceremony was brief and to the point, but the few words exchanged between them meant the world to her.

"With this ring, I thee wed," the bridegroom repeated tenderly as he slid the ring onto her finger. "With my body, I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods, I thee endow."

He smiled warmly at her, and she couldn't help but smile back at this handsome man-now her husband-eager to see what the future held in store for them both.

...

_Chapter 1_

The shoe that first stepped out of the cab and into the rain was small, quite worn, and entirely sensible; in fact, it was rather a lot like the little old lady it was attached to. Miss Jane Marple smiled up at the driver, who was holding the door open with one hand, an umbrella over their heads with the other.

"Thank you, dear," she said, pulling her old carry-bag with her. The rain continued to beat down all around them as the driver shut the door behind her. "Oh my, this rain really is coming down! And you're to be stuck driving back in it."

"Don't you worry 'bout me, ma'am," the driver insisted as they hurried across the drive towards the front door of the hotel. "I don't have far to go tonight."

Neither of them did, it seemed, for in moment they were both safely inside the hotel's vestibule, out of the rain. Miss Marple shook out her coat a little as the driver opened the inner door and a wave of light and heat, so unlike the cold night outside, hit her. "Thank you, dear, I'll be quite all right from here," she assured, stepping inside and turning to see him off. "You take care driving in this rain!"

"Yes ma'am, I will," he replied, tipping his hat in her direction with a grin. "You 'ave a lovely stay now, Miss Marple." With that, the driver turned and, not bothering to reopen his umbrella, raced back to his cab and drove off.

Miss Marple watched him go with a smile, her mind already elsewhere. After the recent matter with the corpse in the ballroom, she was looking forward to a nice, quiet stay, far from the stressors of home. Shaking the last few raindrops off her coat, she headed for the front desk. The hotel was quite nice, she noticed, and she smiled, thinking of her favourite nephew Raymond, who had insisted quite adamantly that she get away from St. Mary's Mead for a holiday near the seaside.

The front desk was empty, and automatically Miss Marple looked up at the great clock that hung upon the wall behind it. Ten past midnight. It was far later than she'd intended to arrive; a truck had overturned on one of the small country roads, setting her journey back by several hours. Perhaps, the hour being so late, the clerk was already in bed for the night.

All of a sudden, she heard the approach of a woman's heels, followed by the heavy tread of a man.

"Don't patronise me, Katherine!" the voice of a man suddenly hissed, causing Miss Marple to start before leaning closer to listen with interest. "I'm onto your little games. Don't think you're going to get away with it!"

"Really, Sidney?" the woman-Katherine, obviously-replied, her Irish accent practically dripping poison as she spoke the man's name. "Well, if you know my games, then most certainly I know yours!"

Miss Marple shook her head. It was far too late for such a personal argument in a public hotel lobby. Carefully, she stepped a little around the pillar nearby, which had been blocking the couple's view of her, and coughed delicately, jerking their attention in her direction.

The man, who was tall and fair-haired, took one look at her, turned to glare at the woman with whom he had been arguing, and then stalked off, ascending the nearby stairs. The young woman watched him go with a huff, turning to catch Miss Marple's inquisitive gaze before smiling politely and retreating in the same direction.

A lovers' quarrel, or something near to it, Miss Marple decided as she turned back to the front desk, wondering just how to attract the attention of the absent clerk. She finally noticed the small silver desk bell that was to her left and jingled it slightly, listening to its ring cast about the now-silent lobby.

Miss Marple heard the loud scrape of a chair from the back office and smiled at the flustered man who hastily appeared behind the desk. "I'm so sorry, Ma'am," he said, blushing profusely and causing the freckles dotted across his nose to stand out even more. "I didn't hear you come in! I hope you weren't waiting too long."

"No dear, that is quite all right," Miss Marple replied easily, waving the notion away. "I've barely been here a moment."

The clerk smiled in relief, opening his log book. "Have you already booked a room?" he asked, passing his pen down the list of names and rooms.

"Yes, it should be under 'Marple'," the woman said, leaning forward a little over the desk to check the list herself. "My nephew booked a room for me."

The clerk smiled. "Miss Jane Marple?" he asked and was quickly answered by her confirmatory smile. Turning to the wall of keys behind him, he pulled one off and handed it over. "Room 19, Miss Marple. Up those stairs, and first door on your right. Facilities are at the end of the corridor."

"Thank you," Miss Marple smiled as she took her key from him.

"Would you like me to carry your bag up for you, Miss Marple?" the clerk asked.

She shook her head. "No, dear, that's fine. It's not heavy."

"Then at least let me send some hot soup up then? It's quite chilly outside," he persisted, causing Miss Marple to smile.

"Very well," she said. "That would be quite nice, thank you."

The clerk nodded. "I'll bring it up momentarily then, Ma'am."

Miss Marple smiled at him once more as she turned to follow his directions. The stairs only went up half a flight before reaching a landing and dividing off right and left into two separate corridors. She took the stairs as quickly as her tired legs could carry her and quickly found her door.

In a moment, she was inside and casting her eye about the neat room. The bed was straight ahead against the back wall, with a small chest of drawers to the right and a desk and chair to the left, set under a window upon which the rain was currently beating a steady rhythm. Before the bed sat a settee and small coffee table, with an oriental screen-by far the most ornate thing in the room-directly left of the door, setting off a small washbasin and cloth in the corner.

Miss Marple had barely had time to set down her bag and close the curtains before a knock sounded at the door. She gratefully accepted from the clerk a tray of steaming soup and a welcome pot of tea. Neither the soup nor the tea was the best she had ever tasted, but they were exactly what was needed to ward off the chill of the late night rain pouring down outside. Finally feeling warm once again, Miss Marple donned her nightgown and slid into bed, slowly drifting into the lull of pre-sleep. The room grew silent, and all that could be heard was her own breathing and the gentle tick of the clock beside her bed...

...until a loud BANG suddenly sounded from the room next door, jerking her wide awake. She'd know that sound anywhere: the blast of a shot being fired.

Hurriedly, Miss Marple fumbled for the light in the unfamiliar room. Once found, she pulled on her dressing gown and searched her bag for her slippers, which she had not yet bothered to unpack. Although it hadn't taken her long, by the time she hurried out her door, the narrow corridor was already blocked with people. An older couple from the room directly across now stood in their open doorway in their nightwear. Miss Marple recognised the woman Katherine from earlier, now hurrying up the corridor from the far end, and the clerk; they were both fully dressed, as was a taller man who was trying to open the door of the adjacent room, seemingly in vain.

"Dammit, the door's locked!" the tall man said, letting go of the handle and gesturing for everyone else to move back. "I'll have to break it down."

The clerk immediately protested, "Is that really necess-?" but was interrupted by the tall man barging into the door. The wood shuddered but didn't break on the first try nor on the second or third.

Miss Marple pursed her lips in worry that it was taking him so long to get inside, but on the fourth try the door slammed wide with an almighty crack of wood. As soon as it was open, the tall man, the clerk, and Miss Marple made their way through the doorway, the other onlookers remaining out in the corridor, watching on in fear.

There was a body of a man lying prone on the floor, blood apparently from a perforating gunshot wound to his back saturating the carpet as two figures loomed above him. One man, who'd been kneeling over the body, stood up quickly when he saw the other entrants to the room, his blue eyes suddenly worried. His darker companion, already standing, shifted his stance into a defensive one, his hazel eyes flashing with the same emotion that could be seen in his partner's. Miss Marple just stared at them in shock, taking in their slightly mussed hair, flashy-if oddly tailored-suits, and once white shirts, now soaked with blood.

It was the slightly shorter, blue-eyed man that spoke first, his voice even and his breathy Irish accent very pronounced. "This isn't what it looks like."

...

_to be continued_


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter 2_

Everyone stared, the two bloodstained men looking as surprised as those stood in the doorway.

Miss Marple was the first to regain her senses. Turning to the hotel clerk, she calmly instructed, "Go. Contact the police."

The clerk nodded and quickly made his way through the crowd as the Irishman spoke once again, stating simply and calmly, "We didn't do this."

"Let me through!" Another Irish voice, this one female, cried out as she pressed her way through those gathered in front of the door. Peering inside the room, Katherine gasped, "Alfred!"

"There's nothing to fear, Miss Reilly," said the tall man who'd forced the door, his voice confident and reassuring. "I shall see that justice is done." He charged into the sitting room, grabbing the Irishman gruffly by the arm, causing the darker gentleman to take an ominous step closer, obviously ready to come to his friend's defence.

But Miss Marple had a more immediate concern. "Is the man dead?" she asked simply. From the sheer volume of blood already on the floor, she was certain of the answer, but she felt it must be asked.

The Irishman, however, nodded gravely in reply.

"No! It can't be!" Katherine sobbed, rushing into the room, and it was only then that Miss Marple began to notice the similarity between the dead man's suit and that of the man the Irishwoman had been sparring with in the lobby only a half hour before. But hadn't she referred to that man by some name other than Alfred? Miss Marple was trying to recall the conversation she'd overheard earlier as she watched the woman kneel down next to the body when suddenly another voice was heard in the corridor.

"Katherine? What is it? Are you all right?"

Before Miss Marple could turn to see who'd spoken, she was suddenly shoved aside by a man pushing his way past her into the room, stopping short as he took in the scene.

Then everything seemed to happen at once.

"Alfred!" Katherine cried out, rushing to his side.

The tall man who had broken the door down simply stared. "Mr. Brent!" he exclaimed, seemingly surprised at the man's sudden appearance.

"Sidney?!" The man who had just entered-Mr. Alfred Brent, apparently-gasped, all the blood draining from his face. He hurried over to the body on the floor as the others in the room merely stared at him. But before the confusion could be sorted, an authoritative voice sounded down the corridor.

"Make way!" it said, steadily growing louder. "Make way!"

Miss Marple quickly stepped aside to let the two policemen through.

"What's all this then?" the shorter, and more brusque, of the two policemen demanded as he pushed his way through the doorway.

Mr. Brent looked up from the body, stating absently, "Sidney Evans-my partner-he's...dead!" as if he couldn't quite believe it.

The larger constable approached the body, feeling for a pulse before shaking his head.

"Is this his room?" the shorter policeman demanded.

"No, I'm afraid...it's mine," Mr. Brent said, seemingly confused. "I don't know how he..."

"It was these two men," proclaimed the tall man, who still had a hold on the Irishman. "We all heard a shot from inside, and when we forced open the locked door, these two were here, covered in blood."

"Right," the larger policeman said, standing and grabbing the darker-haired man by the arm. "We'll be taking you downtown for questioning."

"But we didn't-" the apprehended man started to protest but was silenced by the look his partner gave him; clearly the Irishman was in charge, though of what, Miss Marple couldn't quite determine.

"Sounds fairly open and shut to me," said the shorter policeman dismissively, obviously content to take the men straight to the gallows.

"Still, Bourke, we'd best call in Harper, don'tcha think?" the other suggested.

Miss Marple couldn't help but smile. If there was going to be a murder investigation, she was glad to hear that S.I. Harper would be in charge, for she'd worked with him before.

"Very well," P.C. Bourke grudgingly relented. "Go on, Fisher, take in these two; I'll stay here and guard the crime scene till the superintendent arrives."

"Give us a hand?" P.C. Fisher asked the man who'd forced the door, and the two of them started to head towards the corridor, each dragging a suspect with him.

"Okay, everyone," P.C. Bourke announced, pulling himself up to his full height, which wasn't much taller than Miss Marple, before shooing everyone out into the corridor to make room for the others to exit. "Nothing more to see here now. Go back to bed, the lot of you. We'll come take everyone's witness statements in the morning."

The two men were escorted away without incident, and the remaining constable closed the door behind them with an air of finality.

"But where am I to sleep?" Mr. Brent asked, gesturing towards what had once been his sleeping quarters.

"I'm sure the hotel clerk can find you another room for the night," the P.C. answered, showing no concern for the man who'd just lost his business partner. "I'm afraid this room is now a crime scene."

Mr. Brent looked ready to argue but Katherine pulled him aside, whispering something in his ear.

"We can't," he replied, his voice low but loud enough for Miss Marple to hear. "No one must know. I should...I'll just get another room."

"But Alfred-" Katherine started to protest, but Mr. Brent shushed her as he led her off down the corridor, away from Miss Marple and the front desk.

Miss Marple reluctantly headed back towards her own door. She couldn't believe someone had just been killed in the room next door, though it wasn't exactly the first time she'd been in such a situation. She was eager to talk to S.I. Harper, but chances were it would be some time before he arrived, so she decided it was best to simply wait for him in her own room.

Closing the door behind her, she looked about, wondering how to pass the time. She knew she'd never be able to sleep, so she took a seat on the settee, going through the evening's events in her mind. Obviously the two men they'd found on the far side of the locked door, blood upon their shirts and a dead body at their feet, seemed the obvious suspects, but somehow Miss Marple felt certain there was more to this crime than what first met the eye. If only she'd been at the hotel longer, she'd know more about the guests and have a better feel for the characters involved. As it was, she had so many questions. Why had Sidney been in Mr. Brent's room? Where had Mr. Brent been? And had it all something to do with Katherine, since she somehow seemed to be the link between the two men?

But as her mind raced, Miss Marple began to realise the pondering chatter inside her head was now competing with actual chatter emanating from the room next door. Surely S.I. Harper wasn't here yet, was he? Miss Marple went to the door and peered out, but no, P.C. Bourke was still stood in the corridor in front of the closed door. Pulling her own door to, she approached the wall separating her room from the crime scene, listening carefully. From this vantage point it was clear; there were definitely voices-female voices-coming from inside the adjacent room.

Miss Marple hurried into the corridor and over to the constable.

"You need to open up this door immediately," she insisted without preamble. "I can hear voices inside."

The policeman gave her a patronising smile. "I'm sure you're just hearing things, ma'am. I know it's hard to sleep after all this excitement, but perhaps the hotel clerk can get you a nice cup a chamomile to help you sleep."

Miss Marple ignored his condescension, repeating calmly, "I'm telling you, there is someone inside. You need to open up."

The constable gave a frustrated sigh, obviously annoyed that, on top of everything else, he now had to deal with an hysterical old woman. "Listen, ma'am, there's no one-"

But he was cut off by a short cry which unmistakably originated from inside the room. He glared at Miss Marple, as if she herself were somehow responsible, and quickly flung open the door.

The empty room was much as they'd left it, and Miss Marple realised for the first time that it was nearly an exact duplicate to her own, down to the oriental screen in the corner. But now she could feel a chilly breeze blowing, one that hadn't been present when they'd discovered the body, and she automatically entered the room, heading for the back window.

"Hey, lady! Stop! This is a crime scene!"

But Miss Marple didn't pause, for she'd already spotted what she'd expected to see-the window was wide open, and rain was now pouring in, splashing upon the sill and dampening the desk beneath it. Glancing out into the wet darkness, she could see the ground about five feet below...and a torn piece of red fabric caught upon a branch partway down, which perhaps explained the startled cry they'd heard. Miss Marple leant out the window, plucking the fabric from the branch and tucking it away in the pocket of her dressing gown. She made a mental note to tell S.I. Harper about the fabric-and to be on the look-out herself for the source of the rip amongst the hotel guests-as she closed the window, causing a loud bang as the sill slammed down much easier than expected.

"Hey!" the policeman objected, still standing at the door, obviously terrified of being caught by Harper messing about inside. "You can't just change the crime scene, lady."

Miss Marple turned back towards him, an explanation upon her lips about how the window had already been changed since the crime occurred, when she saw something she didn't expect.

There, behind the oriental screen, which blocked its view from the doorway, was a golden, flickering light.

...

_to be continued_


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter 3_

"What on earth?" Miss Marple gasped, staring at the sparkling miasma of spinning light. She took a step towards it, mesmerised by the swirling shards that looked as if the very fabric of the universe had shattered like glass.

But P.C. Bourke, unable to see the phenomonon from his post at the door, was starting to grow impatient. "Let's go, ma'am. Now!"

Miss Marple, however, ignored him, instead insisting, "Constable, you really ought to see-"

"I'll take you downtown myself," he barked, all semblance of congeniality now gone.

Miss Marple sighed, realising Bourke was clearly a "play it by the book" sort, which no doubt explained why he had not yet progressed further up the ranks. But there was no sense in arguing with the man at this late hour, as S.I. Harper would soon be here and would no doubt be just as interested as she in investigating the mysterious light. So Miss Marple headed for the door, realising as she passed the screen that the strange phenomonon seemed to produce neither heat nor noise. Curiouser and curiouser.

As soon as she was clear of the threshold, the constable slammed the door closed behind her, without consideration for the sleeping guests in nearby rooms. "You'd best get to bed now, ma'am," he suggested firmly. "You can count on us speaking to you in the morning."

Miss Marple merely gave him a polite nod, ignoring his snide tone, and mindlessly headed back towards her own room. Her mind was still awhirl with wonder over the strange light. What could have caused it? Did it pose some kind of danger to her and the other guests? And what connection, if any, did it have with the dead man who still lay in the room?

As her hand reached for the doorknob, a noise from the lobby broke her out of her thoughtful reverie. Instantly she wondered who might be checking in so late, so she quietly edged her way towards the stairs, longing to catch a glimpse of the new arrivals.

Two young ladies were now stood just inside the lobby door, dripping wet. Neither was wearing a coat, and their high-heeled shoes were caked with fresh mud. From the look of their frocks, Miss Marple wondered if they might be foreigners, for their outfits, whilst obviously new, were certainly not the fashion being worn these days, even in London.

The taller of the two wore a strapless black frock, not unlike the one Rita Hayworth had recently worn in _Glinda_, though this one, if possible, was even more form-fitting. The woman's long, dark hair, which retained its curls even when wet, fell carelessly about her bare shoulders as she shivered from the cold.

But Miss Marple's eye was drawn instead to her companion. The younger girl, who looked barely out of her teens, was wearing an attention-grabbing red wide-brimmed hat over her straight auburn hair. Her flared skirt was shockingly short, not even reaching her knees, yet still somehow projected the impression of youthful innocence. But these details were not what had sparked Miss Marple's interest-instead, her attention was drawn to the frock's uneven hemline, which seemed to be caused by a rip along the back of her red skirt!

"Where could they have gone?" the younger girl asked, clearly upset. "They should've been back by now, don't you think? Perhaps someone has seen them?"

"Perhaps someone saw them with the body," the other girl replied matter-of-factly.

"Oh Emily, you don't think-?"

Emily nodded. "It is entirely possible-likely, even. Why else should they be gone and the body still there? Matt should have listened to me," she added under her breath, sounding slightly perturbed. "We have rules for a reason."

"C'mon, we need to find out." The girl in the red hat hurried over to the front desk, calling into the back, "Pardon me? Sir? May we get your assistance please?"

After a moment, the hotel clerk appeared, rubbing the fresh sleep from his eyes. At the sight of the pretty young things, however, he self-consciously ran a hand through his sleep-tousled hair before asking, "Isn't it awfully late for you two young ladies to be out alone?"

"Oh, we're not a-"

"Jess," Emily uttered under her breath, causing the younger girl to stop midword and start again.

"We're...um...looking for two gentlemen," Jess went on. "Perhaps you've seen them? One of them is about so high, extremely handsome, with penetrating hazel eyes and the loveliest dark hair-"

"Ahem," her friend interrupted by clearing her throat.

Jess stopped her dreamy soliloquy, looking a bit chagrined, and returned to the task at hand. "The other gentleman is slightly shorter, and while fit, is not nearly as-"

"He is Irish by birth," the other girl jumped in impatiently, clearly trying to give useful, distinguishing details.

Yet the clerk must've still been half asleep-or perhaps mesmerised by the bare shoulders and exposed knees now stood before him-for he absently ran a finger down the registration book, shaking his head. "I'm afraid no such gentlemen are currently guests with us."

"Oh, they wouldn't be guests," Jess said. "They're more like...visitors," she concluded, making a face as if realising how awkward her comment had sounded.

But Emily clarified, "So you have not seen these two gentlemen anywhere here tonight?"

The clerk stifled a yawn. "I'm afraid not. Sorry. May I help you with anything else? A room, perhaps?" He sounded almost eager, as if he looked forward to talking to them again when he wasn't half asleep.

"No. Thank you."

With Emily's polite dismissal, the clerk sighed and disappeared into the back once more.

"Oh, Emily, now what?" Jess asked, clearly upset as she turned from the desk.

Too late, Miss Marple realised that she'd been spotted. It would now be impossible to simply duck back into her room unnoticed, for the girl had already called out, "Pardon me? Ma'am?" and started across the lobby towards her. There was nothing for it; Miss Marple would have to speak to the girls. Somehow sensing that it might be better if the constable didn't overhear, she approached the lobby, meeting the two girls at the foot of the stairs.

"I'm so sorry to bother you," Jess began as they came together, "but we're looking for two gentlemen." Upon Miss Marple's nod of recognition, the girl gasped with excitement, asking, "You've seen them?"

"I have, actually," Miss Marple answered truthfully.

"Do you know where they have gone?" Emily asked; although she had done a better job of hiding her concern, it was clear she was just as relieved as her friend to hear news of them.

Miss Marple reluctantly nodded. "I'm dreadfully sorry to give you girls such bad news, but I'm afraid your gentleman friends have been taken downtown to the police station for questioning." Miss Marple didn't bother to say why, since the girls were obviously aware of the corpse. Yet despite their suspicious actions, the woman somehow felt (rather than reasoned) that these two innocents were not responsible for the man's death.

"Oh no!" Jess gasped upon hearing the news. "Oh Emily, what should we do?"

Miss Marple shook her head, putting a comforting hand on the young girl's forearm. "It is late, my dear, and undoubtedly you shall not be able to see them tonight. You'd best go home and get a good night's sleep. Tomorrow will be here soon enough, and you can see them then."

"Home?" Jess repeated blankly, as if it were an impossible concept for her to fathom.

"She is right," Emily said, giving Jess a meaningful look, clearly trying to convey some message that Miss Marple was not to understand. "We should go back, before it is too late."

"No!" Jess insisted. "I'm not going back without them. What if we left them and they were stuck here alone? That would be dreadful. No," she repeated firmly, "we should go find them and return together."

Miss Marple was surprised and quite impressed with the young girl's determination, despite how misguided it seemed-perhaps Jess was made of tougher stuff than her youthful exterior suggested.

Her companion did not look pleased, however, and asked bluntly, "And how do you suggest we get to the station? I do not believe the rain has abated since we entered, and by the clock above the desk it is already well past one."

"Then we shall simply have to find a cab," Jess said matter-of-factly, scurrying off towards the door, leaving her friend behind.

Emily frowned, turning back to Miss Marple to say, "Thank you for your assistance. I am sorry to have kept you up, Mrs...?"

"Miss Marple," she corrected with a warm smile.

"Pleased to meet you, Miss Marple. I am Lady...," she paused after the word, as if she had not meant to say it but had done so out of old habit, before continuing, "Emily Merchant, and that is my friend Jessica Parker."

"Emily, c'mon," Jess called impatiently from across the lobby. "It's late!"

Lady Merchant frowned at her friend's impatience before adding, "I hope you have a pleasant evening," before hurrying after her friend.

"So where do you think we are?" Jess asked as Emily made her way through the lobby.

Obviously practical, Lady Merchant paused in her cross only long enough to pick up a newspaper that one of the hotel guests had left strewn upon a lobby chair. "Glenshire," she read aloud from the banner. "April, 1949."

Jess gave a short gasp, as if these particulars were somehow news to her. She reached for the door, but instead it opened to meet her.

"Thank you," she said, offering the tall gentleman a winning smile before hurrying past with Emily, the two girls disappearing into the dark and stormy night.

After watching them go, the gentleman himself stepped into the lobby.

"Superintendent Harper!" Miss Marple cried out, pleased to see the handsome inspector.

Now, at last, the official investigation could begin!

...

_to be continued_


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter 4_

"Ahhh, Miss Marple," Superintendent Harper said, a wry smile stretching across his handsome features as he strode towards her. "I might have known you would be here. Can't resist a spot of murder, eh?"

"Superintendent Harper, a pleasure to see you again," Miss Marple replied warmly, hurrying across the lobby to greet him. "Although I wish it could have perhaps been under different circumstances."

Harper grunted in reply, sticking his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels with a frown. "Nasty business this one. My man told me our victim had been shot in the back, through and through."

Miss Marple nodded. "A violent and unfortunate way to die," she said. "The two men you have taken into custody, what of them?"

"Ahhhh, there is a bit of a problem there," Harper said hesitantly. "Supposedly they are a Mr. Anderson and a Captain Becker."

"Supposedly?" Miss Marple asked, noting the way the policeman said their names and titles as if he doubted very much their veracity. "What is the problem?"

"Both the men had I.D.'s on them; however, the dates are all odd...not to mention impossible," he added with a look of confusion.

"False I.D.'s?" Miss Marple asked.

"Definitely, though there seems to be no point to them. I mean, why on earth create false I.D.'s that can't even pass for the real thing? And when asked what they were doing standing over the deceased, both were completely evasive," Harper replied, his brow crinkling into a frown.

Miss Marple nodded. "Something definitely seems wrong in all this."

"A man's dead, Miss Marple-one can't get more wrong than that," Harper said lightly, as a man who dealt with such things for a living. "But I'm guessing that's not what you meant?"

She nodded, turning a little to begin ambling back towards the stairs as she explained, "The men were found behind a locked door, but that's obviously not the only entrance to the room. And why that room, when it wasn't even the victim's but his business partner's instead? And I'm curious as to what the victim and a woman named Katherine were arguing about shortly before...?"

Harper stopped in his tracks. "Did you say 'Katherine'?"

"Yes I did." Miss Marple replied, turning to look at her companion just as they reached the first step. "Why? Is that name somehow important to you, Superintendent?"

Harper was once again frowning, deep in thought, one foot upon the stair and the other still planted firmly in the lobby. "I'm not sure," he mused. "It seems her name has come up already."

Thinking back to the scene, Miss Marple recalled the woman interacting with several of the men. Perhaps she was the link between them all...and the key to this entire crime. But the Inspector might be in a better position to judge, so she asked as they continued up the stairs, "Would you like me to inform you of what all I witnessed?"

Harper smiled and nodded, pulling out a pad and pencil from his coat pocket. "Thank you, Miss Marple," he said, "that would be most helpful."

"Well." she began, "I arrived here very late-there had been an accident on the road up from Meadow Mead, you see. While I was waiting for the clerk to come to the desk, I noticed this woman, Katherine, and Sidney-the victim-arguing. They called each other by their first names and obviously knew each other intimately, although they did not seem friendly."

"What time was this?" Harper interrupted, scribbling furiously in his notebook.

"At about ten past twelve," Miss Marple replied and continued as he recorded the time. "The pair went their separate ways before the clerk came to the desk to check me in, offering to bring some soup up to my room. I accepted and retired. My soup was brought at about twenty-five past twelve, and I was finished by twenty to one. I then headed to bed and had barely been asleep for fifteen minutes when...what is it?"she asked, noticing the amused smile upon the Inspector's face.

"Your eye for detail is, as always, spot on," he pointed out. "You manage to give me more information in three sentences than I'd get out of most witnesses in three hours. With the majority, I can never get more than 'don't quite know - it was rather late, I s'pose'."

Miss Marple smiled, having dealt with the unobservant public herself many times before. "I know from experience that time can be crucial in these cases."

"Indeed." Harper then gestured for her to continue, prompting, "Now please, go on - I didn't mean to interrupt."

She nodded and returned to her narrative. "I had barely been asleep for fifteen minutes when a loud sound awoke me."

"A loud sound?" Harper queried as they reached the landing and began down the corridor towards the rooms.

"A gunshot," Miss Marple replied firmly. "That would have been nearly one o-clock. I dressed and looked out my door," she said, gesturing to it as they passed, "and there were several people gathering in the corridor at the door next from mine."

Harper nodded, "Can you describe them for me please, Miss Marple?"

Miss Marple frowned a little as she tried to remember. "Yes. Well. There was a tall, dark-haired man trying the door, which was evidently locked from the inside, and an elderly couple stood in the door of their room," she mused. "The clerk was there as well, and I saw Katherine coming down from a room at the other end of the corridor."

"Alright, what happened then?" Harper asked, still jotting notes.

Miss Marple explained how the door had been forced and how Katherine had mistook the body for that of another man.

Harper frowned in confusion, "Why would Katherine think the victim was this Alfred fellow?" he asked.

"Because they were clad in similar suits. Besides, it was Alfred's room the body was found in," Miss Marple answered matter-of-factly as they approached the guard at the door.

Harper blinked in surprise. "You really are remarkably astute in these matters, aren't you?"

Miss Marple shrugged and smiled impishly back at him. "I try."

It was at that moment that the two reached the policeman still standing guard at the door of Alfred Brent's hotel room. P.C Bourke glanced at her in annoyance when he noticed her standing next to his superior officer.

"Bourke," Harper nodded his head slightly to the other officer in greeting. "Has the crime scene been disturbed?"

P.C. Bourke's eyes flickered to Miss Marple in obvious contempt, "Yes, in fact it has, Sir," he said, glaring at her, "This...spinster," he spat out with obvious contempt, "thought she was hearing noises from inside and got past me. She managed to close the window a'fore I-"

"Police Constable Bourke," Harper broke in, his jaw tensing but his voice remaining calmly authoritative as he prepared to dress down his subordinate, "this 'spinster', as you refer to her, happens to be Miss Marple, a good friend and enlightening assistant to this case. If she thought she was hearing noises inside, she most definitely was, and it would have been in your best interest to listen to her sooner rather than to allow potential suspects to flee the scene under your watch."

P.C. Bourke blinked in obvious surprise, his lips pressing together in a thin, angry line before he nodded sharply, "Yes Sir."

During this exchange, Miss Marple had been thinking. She had not yet had time to tell Harper about what had happened after the scene had been closed up the first time...nor what she'd discovered when she'd re-entered the room.

Absent-mindedly, Miss Marple reached into her dressing gown pocket and ran the small scrap of red fabric through her fingers. If her suspicions were correct, the colour was exactly the same as that of the frock Jess had been wearing. What had the two girls been doing in the room of Alfred Brent? Had they climbed up into the room after his death, to retrieve something perhaps? Or had they been there all along, hidden from view just as the flickering light had been? It was, quite simply, utterly confusing.

"Miss Marple!?" She finally realised that Harper was trying to speak to her.

"Hmmmm?" Miss Marple murmured, her thoughts finally returning to the present conversation, "Yes dear?"

Harper sighed in exasperation. "I asked what exactly the noises were you thought you heard coming from inside the room."

"I didn't think I heard them-they were clearly there," Miss Marple stated confidently. "I unmistakably heard the voices of-"

But their discussion was interrupted by a sudden loud crash from inside the room-a room which was supposedly empty.

The constable frantically tried the doorknob, but P.C. Bourke's slamming of the door earlier must have done additional damage to the doorframe for the door refused to budge.

Harper hissed, "Bourke, get the door open right now!" as he stepped in, adding his weight to it.

Miss Marple watched the pair struggling with the door with not a small amount of trepidation, the sound of voices within the room growing louder and more animated. Was that two, no, three voices that she heard? How had they gotten inside, when she clearly remembered locking the window upon closing it?

Finally the two policemen managed to open the door and burst into the room, Miss Marple following close behind them.

"It's bad enough you forced me to come; I am not-I repeat-NOT getting mud on my Italian shoes!"

A man with slicked back hair, wearing a exquisitely tailored pin-striped suit and expensive-looking Italian shoes, was stood hollering out the once-again-open back window.

"Hold it right there!" Miss Marple heard Bourke sputter as the man turned to look at the constable contemptuously, seemingly completely unfazed.

"Oh for goodness' sake!" the pin-striped man said, throwing his hands in the air and rolling his eyes in annoyance. "This is all I need-some half-wit policemen getting the wrong idea!" And with that, he waved his hands at them, as if trying to shoo them away.

...

_to be continued_


	5. Chapter 5

_Chapter 5_

P.C. Bourke charged across the room, furious that the man's appearance within the crime scene reflected poorly on him.

The man in the pin-striped suit, however, ignored the short, angry policeman and continued, his loud voice very obviously aimed out the window. "A bit late to party, I see, Constable," he spoke, placing extra stress on the final word as he gave Bourke a disdainful once-over. "Think that might be a clue as to why you're still working the night shift at this point in your career, hmm?"

Miss Marple couldn't help but smile, amused that the sardonic man had come to the same conclusion as she in such a brief time.

"That's enough of that," Bourke barked, his already red face turning almost purple as he grabbed the other man gruffly by the arm before peering out the window. "I don't see anyone else about, sir," he reported, turning back to Harper.

By this point, the other two uniformed men who'd followed Harper from the station had reached the door, trying to take in the situation quickly. Harper turned to them and gave a curt nod, and they hurried out of the room in search of the co-conspirators the man had clearly been trying to warn off. The Superintendent then slowly made his way across the room, sizing up the strange man as he went.

"Nice shoes," he commented. "It seems the war did nothing to hinder the Italians' craftmanship."

The man, however, rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Oh please, don't go into any post-war nonsense at this hour-that's the last thing I need. It's not as if I haven't heard the same thing from my grandfather for years; you'd think he'd have gotten over it by now."

Harper shrugged, the man's acerbic comments simply falling on deaf ears. "Take him out to the car," the Superintendent calmly ordered Bourke, and the sardonic man was taken away, though not before he could make several additional colourful comments.

As the door was finally shut behind them, Harper turned to Miss Marple, the only other living person left in the room. "Seems more circus than crime scene."

Miss Marple nodded, joining him at the back of the room. "The window wasn't open when the body was discovered," she informed him, "and I heard at least two female voices in the room previously. They clearly escaped via the window," she said, planning to explain her deduction later.

Harper glanced out into the darkness. "Quite a drop," he observed, sticking his head briefly out into the rain. Pulling it back in quickly, he continued, "This window faces the front of the hotel-you wouldn't think they'd be so bold as to come and go this way."

"Why not?" Miss Marple asked as Harper closed the window. "It's awfully late and a horrid night out, so it's unlikely that anyone would have been about."

"Unlikely," he agreed, "but not impossible, as we've already witnessed."

Miss Marple nodded, realising now was as good a time as any to bring up the topic that had been troubling her since she'd visited the room before. "And there's something else," she began, turning around to point out the strange, flickering light behind the oriental screen, eager to get Harper's opinion on the bizarre phenomenon. However, Miss Marple stopped short when she realised there was no longer anything behind the screen other than the simple washbasin and cloth as in her room.

"Yeah, the body," Harper finished for her with a smile. "Might want to take a look at that, mightn't we?"

He headed back towards where the victim still lay, but Miss Marple did not follow. Instead she walked over to the screen, warily reaching out to where the light had previously been. She then stepped behind the screen herself, searching for some source, some mirror, something that might have caused what she'd seen.

"Appears to have been a single perforating gunshot to the back," Harper was saying as he examined the corpse. "From the location, looks like it probably entered the heart. Death was likely not immediate, so he might've..." Harper stopped as his eyes met Miss Marple's across the room. He immediately hopped to his feet, heading towards her. "Did you find something?"

Miss Marple shook her head. How could she explain what she had seen? Had it really been there after all? Perhaps Bourke's suspicions were correct and she was going dotty in her old age, though more likely she was simply a bit exhausted from her travels than she'd realised.

"You have," Harper answered his own question, excitedly pointing to bloody finger swipes upon the screen, which Miss Marple had overlooked whilst searching for the light. The Superintendent touched the stain, rubbing it between his fingertips. "It's still wet. The victim must've stumbled this way at some point before collapsing."

Miss Marple glanced about the room, the memory of the swirling light fading as the facts of the crime came crowding back into her mind. "But why?" she asked aloud. "There's no gunshot in the screen, meaning he wasn't shot whilst behind it. Yet this is so out of the way, why would he have made his way over here to the corner?" Might he, too, have gone to investigate the light?

Harper, however, didn't seem bothered by this anomaly. "As I said, death probably wasn't immediate. He might've stumbled over here for any number of reasons, to retrieve an important paper he didn't want others to find, perhaps, and then staggered over to where he collapsed."

The comment made Miss Marple's mind suddenly strike upon a different observation. "But the arrangement of the body - did you notice? He doesn't lie as if he'd collapsed. It is more as if his body had been placed there-by the two men, perhaps?" she added, realising that the positions the two men had been discovered in-one at his head and one at his feet-seemed to support this conclusion.

"But why place the body there?" Harper asked. "Why not simply leave him where he lay and make their escape? You said it took several moments for the door to be forced open, yeah? Plenty of time to get away."

Miss Marple nodded, her mind swirling like the strange light she'd seen. There were so many things that simply didn't make sense. Perhaps the Superintendent could help sort things out-surely he'd be able to help determine what, if anything, the strange light had to do with it all.

"There's something else...," she began just as the door swung open and a very wet constable stepped inside.

"We couldn't find anyone about, sir," the policeman said, panting from the effort of the search.

Harper gave a sigh. "I'm not surprised, with the headstart they had. I don't suppose you found a gun either?"

"No, sir, though we'll want to make a more thorough search in the daylight."

"Agreed." Harper turned back to Miss Marple, prompting, "You were about to say?"

Miss Marple had been willing to share the details of the strange light with the Superintendent for she knew he wouldn't dismiss her out-of-hand. But not wanting to look a fool in front of some constable she'd never met, she merely gave a smile, accounting for her hesitation with, "Sorry, I seem to have forgotten what I was saying."

Harper smiled, stifling a yawn. "I know what you mean. Being called out of bed at this hour, it's a wonder our brains are functioning at all. We're probably missing the obvious."

"Sir?" The P.C. in the open doorway bent over to pick up a small object at his feet and held it out to his superior. Harper hurried over, giving a frustrated sigh as he took the evidence.

"As I was saying," he commented, holding up the spent cartridge case for Miss Marple to see.

A thorough search of the room then commenced, unfortunately producing no additional evidence of the crime. The arrival of the coroner, however, yielded one interesting piece to the puzzle: the room key was found in the dead man's trouser pocket.

"The room was locked, you said?" S.I. Harper asked. Upon Miss Marple's nod, he went on, "Then the victim must've locked the door from the inside before he was shot."

"So he must have known his killer," Miss Marple continued his line of thought. "Although why would he be meeting with others inside his partner's room without his partner here?"

Harper shrugged, pulling out his notebook. "I'll be sure to ask our suspects."

It was nearly half past two by the time the body was removed and the constabulary took their leave of the scene.

"If I may, I'll call on you first thing in the morning," Harper said as he shut the door behind them and headed out. "I'd like your input."

Miss Marple nodded, wishing him a good night. Once he was out of sight, she turned and hurried down the corridor towards the facilities, convinced she never should have consumed so much tea and soup when she'd arrived.

A few minutes later, as she was heading back to her room through the now silent corridor, she thought she heard the lobby door quietly opening. At this late hour, with the rain still pelting down outside, Miss Marple guessed it could only be further accomplices, so she tiptoed to the edge of the corridor and peered around the corner.

A young couple were now stood just inside the lobby, dripping on the wooden entryway, drenched to the skin. The man's suit jacket was draped about the woman's shoulders as he shivered violently from the cold.

"You sure they're gone?" he asked through chattering teeth.

"Yes," the blonde girl insisted. "But even if they weren't, we needed to get you out of that rain before you drowned. Here," she said, starting to remove the jacket, "take this back. I'm plenty warm." Though Miss Marple doubted this statement, as the girl was simply wearing a sleeveless blue frock.

The young man shook his head. "No, you should-"

"Connor!" the girl scolded, "you're shaking. C'mon." She wrapped the jacket about his shoulders and ran her hands up and down his arms to try to warm him. Eventually his shivering abated and she smiled, "There. That's better, yeah?"

Connor mumbled an embarrassed, "Thanks," clearly upset that his chivalrous act had gone so wrong.

"So," the girl began, taking in the lobby they were now in, "it seems we're stuck here, so we'd best come up with a plan, yeah?"

"Step one - find the others?" Connor suggested.

But the girl shook her head. "I'm certain Lester's been taken to the police station, and I'd imagine that's where the others ended up as well."

Connor nodded. "Should we stage a rescue attempt?" he asked, sounding almost eager.

"At this late hour?"

The wet young man gave a sigh. "Yeah, you're probably right. We're better off waiting till morning."

The blonde girl nodded, putting on a brave face. Obviously Connor could sense she was more worried about their friends than she was letting on for he put a comforting arm about her shoulders. "I'm sure they'll be fine, Abby," he said soothingly. "I mean, just look about-this ain't so bad, yeah? It coulda been far worse. Look on the bright side-there's nothing trying to kill us here."

Miss Marple found this a rather odd observation to make, but the girl merely gave a wan smile. "Don't forget," Abby pointed out, "there's a murderer on the loose out here somewhere."

Connor shrugged it off. "Ah, no problem. Once we get out of these wet clothes and have a good night's sleep, we can sort everything out," he said, leading her across the lobby towards the front desk.

"And how do you suggest we pay for a room?" Abby asked, looking dubious. "I doubt our currency will be accepted here."

So perhaps they and their friends were foreigners after all, Miss Marple surmised, though she would've placed the young man's accent as more Yorkshire than Yugoslavian.

But again Connor gave a shrug. "We'll worry 'bout money in the morning."

"Connor!" Abby scolded. "We're not hiring a room without the means to pay for it. That'd be dishonest."

"Well...I got me grandfather's watch," Connor suggested, pulling out the weathered timepiece from his pocket and looking at it longingly. "I reckon it'd fetch us more than enough for one night's lodging."

A look of loving concern shown on Abby's face. "Connor, no! You love that watch."

Connor sighed. "But I don't got nothing else of value on me. I didn't exactly expect to end up here tonight, you know? I'm afraid-"

Abby placed her hand over Connor's, tenderly closing it about the sentimental object. "You're right-we can worry about money in the morning," she concluded, smiling.

He smiled back and gave her a quick peck on the lips before asking, "So shall we go check in, Mrs. Temple?"

Abby gave a laugh of surprise, "Pardon?"

"I figure one room's cheaper than two, yeah?" he shrugged as Miss Marple's attention was drawn to the girl's left hand. Whilst a ring adorned her finger, it was not a wedding band per se, yet the two certainly seemed close. Perhaps, after all the excitement of the evening, Miss Marple was mistakenly seeing deception everywhere.

The blonde girl meanwhile had smiled and lovingly linked her arm in her husband's. "I see your point. Let's go register, Mr. Temple."

As they walked up to the front desk, Miss Marple slid without a sound into her own room.

And as her head hit the pillow for the second time that night, she smiled to herself-with so many colourful players, this could turn out to be her most interesting case in years.

...

_to be continued_


	6. Chapter 6

_Chapter 6_

Miss Marple was pleased to have such a handsome young man as her breakfast companion, although she wished it were under cheerier circumstances. "Come now, Inspector Harper," she encouraged. "You were going to tell me more about the two suspects your men took into custody last night."

Harper sighed as if the weight of the world were on his shoulders. "Still said nothing," he grumbled, leaning back into his seat. "Still evading questions."

Miss Marple nodded thoughtfully. "Would you mind pouring me another cup of tea, dear? Yes, thank you." As she slid her cup and saucer towards him, she went on. "I did not get a chance to inform you last night, but two young ladies arrived, asking about your suspects. It was a little odd really, you see..." She trailed off, having caught sight of the two young ladies in question.

And, it seemed, the auburn-haired girl had caught sight of her as well. With a radiant smile, the fresh-faced youth came practically bounding down the stairs and across the lobby towards them, her friend following at a more sedate pace with a bemused expression upon her face.

"Oh, good morning!" the girl said chirpily. "I must apologise for last night! It was raining and I was wet and completely frazzled, being my first time through a-" She pulled herself up short before rushing on, "But anyway, I shouldn't have pounced on you the way I did. Especially so late at night! And such a dreadful night, too, though I must say the fog this morning doesn't seem to be much of an improvement, does it?"

Lady Merchant was now stood behind her friend, warily watching the policeman and Miss Marple, and as the younger girl finally paused to take a breath, she inserted a cautious, "Jess."

The girl's mouth opened in a perfect 'O' for merely a second before she began once more. "I am SO sorry! Where are my manners? I haven't even introduced myself! I'm Jess-Jessica Parker-and this is my friend Emily Merchant-"

"Jess, I informed Miss Marple of our names last night," Emily said with a small sigh, which Miss Marple sensed had nothing to do with the omission of her title in the introduction.

"Well, HE doesn't know." Jess said stubbornly, gesturing to Harper as she inquired, "And if I'm correct, you're Superintendent Harper, yes? I asked at the police station last night who was in charge of the murder investigation and you were pointed out to me, but at the time you were too busy-"

It was only then that Miss Marple noticed the Inspector looking at young Jess as if Cupid's arrow had struck, his gaze now apparently incapable of looking away from the pretty girl. Unfortunately, he was still pouring Miss Marple's tea...which had now overflowed her cup and had almost filled her saucer as well.

"I think that is quite enough tea," Miss Marple said to the man quietly, removing the teapot from his hands with one quick tug.

"What?" Harper asked, suddenly snapping back to the present as he noticed the tea with a blush. "Oh...erm...yes. Sorry, Miss Marple."

Jess, it seemed, had not noticed the entire exchange-though Miss Marple could tell her shrewd friend definitely had-and the younger girl continued to babble on animatedly, "It's hard to believe someone was killed in this very hotel last night-it seems like such a lovely place! Of course, I suppose you see this sort of thing all the time, Inspector. So dreadful! I'm certain, though, that you'll find whoever is responsible for such a-"

"So, how do you know the two gentlemen?" Miss Marple interrupted casually, watching the women out of the corner of her eye. The dark-haired one, Emily, jerked at the question, but her friend quickly replied.

"Oh...he...they...they're...," she stammered, glancing at her friend for an answer. One evidently came to her, for she quickly blurted out, "Matt is Emily's fiancé."

Emily blinked, a flash of surprise passing over her face before her dark eyes became unreadable once more, although a faint blush now seemed to be spreading across the brunette's cheeks.

"Oh, I see," Miss Marple replied, seeing far more than the girls likely had meant to give away. "And the other gentleman? Captain Becker, I believe?" Miss Marple trailed off, watching the younger girl's expression like a hawk.

Jess blushed profusely at the mere mention of the Captain's name. "He's Ma- Mr. Anderson's colleague," the girl stammered awkwardly. "They're...they worked...in the army together."

Miss Marple stole a quick glance at Harper to see what he thought on the matter, but the man seemed to be distracted and not really listening to the conversation, his eyes still trained on Jess as she babbled on, spinning a yarn as she spoke.

"Yes, they were soldiers together, back in the day, and now they, um, work together. For the...the government. You see, they-"

But the mention of the government made the older, sardonic man flash through Miss Marple's mind, and she interrupted, "And the older gentleman-the one in the pin-striped suit and Italian shoes- I assume you know him as well?"

The girl bit her lip, her mind attempting to churn out a plausible answer. But just as Jess opened her mouth to speak, the other woman spoke instead.

"Mr. Lester is Jess' uncle, with whom we are staying," Emily said sharply, continuing on before Miss Marple could get another word in. "Superintendent Harper, might you be able to take us to the station? We are anxious to see our...my fiancé and his friend."

Miss Marple couldn't help but note with some interest the way this Lady Merchant spoke. Her voice had a sort of elocution to it, even when forceful, which only seemed to confirm that her title was genuine. She also, unlike the younger woman, made a quite convincing liar, and Miss Marple concluded the lady must have had much practice.

Harper returned to the conversation and cleared his throat thoughtfully. "Hmmmm? Yes? Oh...right...yes...I'd be happy to."

"Oh, that'd be lovely," Jess gushed.

"Yes, thank you, Superintendent," Emily replied with her clipped accent. "We shall just retire to our room for a moment and then we should be on our way."

The dark-haired lady had a way with words that made them sound as if she knew she would be obeyed without question, another indication of her titled upbringing. After a farewell nod to the table, she grasped her friend by the arm and started to lead her away. Miss Marple caught snippets of their conversation as they returned up the stairs to their room.

"Jess, we simply can't be so..." The rest of Emily's low words could not be heard, but Jess nodded and said something in reply. Miss Marple thought she overheard her own name mentioned, to which the dark-haired girl responded quite forcefully, "Jess, we do not know these people!"

"Oh come on, Emily, she's just a sweet old lady!"

Sweet old lady indeed. Miss Marple turned her attention back to her table before noticing once again the overflowing teacup. "Really, Harper," she tssked. "You young men these days are so predictable."

"I don't know what you mean, Miss Marple," Harper said quickly. A little too quickly.

Miss Marple raised her eyebrows at him as she sipped her tea before putting her cup down. "Perhaps a little focus on your part would not be errant, Superintendent. You do remember, I suppose, that you are meant to be investigating a murder?"

"Why, of course I remember," he replied indignantly. "And I've no idea what you are implying, Miss Marple."

"Of course you don't, dear," Miss Marple said with a knowing smile, reaching across to pat his hand in a motherly way. "You were just being a gentleman and letting me do all the interrogating. Very chivalrous-quite unlike you, really," she teased.

"What interrogating?" Harper asked blankly, although the fact that he refused to meet her gaze suggested he knew exactly what she was talking about.

"I know a pretty face can be quite distracting, but don't forget it can be hazardous, too. Love has the ability to make the most perfectly sane people behave quite irrationally."

"Here they are now," the Inspector blurted out, jumping to his feet and hurrying towards the two young women, obviously eager to escape Miss Marple's all-knowing gaze. "Shall we?" he asked, chivalrously offering Jess his arm, which she happily took, oblivious to her friend's chagrin.

As the trio passed Miss Marple's table, Harper offered simply, "I shall see you back here this afternoon, Miss Marple?"

The older woman nodded, watching the threesome walk out the front door of the lobby, amused at the little interplay between Harper and Jess when he held the door open for her. Miss Marple found it slightly worrisome that the two girls were still clad in the same clothes from the night before, including the ridiculously large red hat that sat perched upon Jess' head. Miss Marple hadn't yet mentioned it to Harper, but the rip in Jess' frock was an issue-an issue she would probably have to get to the bottom of herself as she dared not give the Inspector any more reason to stare at the girl's short skirt!

The rip was definitive proof that the two girls had been within the crime scene last night.

And it would be up to Miss Marple to determine their relationship-if any-to the actual crime.

...

_to be continued_


	7. Chapter 7

_Chapter 7_

Despite this being her holiday, Miss Marple realised she had her work cut out for her, for no sooner had Harper and the two young women left than Katherine appeared. Miss Marple studied the Irishwoman as she descended the stairs and headed across the lobby towards the dining room, eager to find out how she related to the crime.

"Good morning, Miss Reilly," she called out to her, remembering what the tall man at the crime scene had called her, causing the dark-haired woman to start with surprise at the sound of her own name. "What a pleasure to see you," Miss Marple went on, hoping to put the woman at ease. "Please, won't you join me? You seem quite tired, dear. After last night's events, I am guessing you did not sleep well."

Katherine blinked in surprise. "No, I did not." She absently stared at the handbag she was nervously twisting in her hands as she took a seat at the table.

Miss Marple nodded. "That is most understandable. I am very sorry for the loss of your friend."

"Friend?" Katherine asked quizzically, her face blank. Suddenly comprehension dawned. "Oh-you mean Sidney."

Miss Marple was intrigued by the woman's answer. "My apologies. I assumed, from the conversation I overheard last night, that you two were well acquainted."

"Acquainted, yes," Katherine said quickly, "but merely...business associates. Oh, but here comes Mr. Horbury."

Miss Marple followed the Irishwoman's gaze towards the tall man descending the stairs. She recognised him instantly as the man who'd broken in the door last night...meaning he, too, was someone she would very much like to interrogate.

"Is he your breakfast companion?" Miss Marple asked.

Katherine nodded. "I...I was hoping he would be."

But Miss Marple noticed that her comment held none of the same eagerness that showed on Mr. Horbury's face as he approached, his eyes focussed only upon Katherine.

"Then he should join us," Miss Marple said, extending her hand out towards the man as he drew near. "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Horbury," she greeted cheerily. "I am Miss Marple. Won't you please join me and Miss Reilly for some breakfast?"

After an awkward moment, Mr. Horbury finally seemed to notice her proffered hand, seemingly surprised to find there was anyone else in the room besides Miss Reilly. He blinked a few times, staring blankly at her hand, before his manners kicked in. He quickly took her hand with a polite but disingenuous smile.

"Miss Marple, you say? Nice to meet you. David Horbury-ah, but Miss Reilly no doubt already told you as much," he said, his smile taking on a smitten look as he glanced at the younger woman.

"Won't you please join us?" Miss Marple repeated, gesturing to the empty chair next to Katherine.

Mr. Horbury momentarily hesitated, uncertain as to whether he would be intruding. But the moment Miss Reilly coyly smiled up at him, he instantly took his seat.

Miss Marple nudged the toast rack in his direction and then poured him a cup of tea as she asked, "So, Mr. Horbury, where do you hail from?"

"I'm from London, Ma'am," he replied, piling several spoonfuls of sugar into his tea.

"Here on holiday?"

He did not respond straightaway for his hand had touched Miss Reilly's as she'd passed him the milk and he was momentarily distracted. However, he soon realised he had been asked a question and replied, "What? Holiday? Oh, no-I'm afraid I'm here on business."

"Mr. Horbury is a solicitor," Katherine helpfully added, a hint of bragging in her tone, and the man's chest swelled with pride.

"A solicitor? My, how exciting!" Miss Marple cooed, hoping to stroke his ego a bit more. "So what kind of case brings you to Glenshire? Nothing too gruesome, I hope."

Mr. Horbury evidentally was buying her timid act for he gave her hand a reassuring and quite condescending pat. "Don't you worry your dear little head, Miss Marple-it is merely a monetary matter. I am here to represent a family-the family who owns this very hotel, in fact-in a bankruptcy scheme..."

He trailed off as his attention was drawn to the stairs, where another man Miss Marple recognised from the night before-Mr. Brent, the best friend of the deceased-was entering the dining room. The man seemed to cast a wary glance in the direction of their table before stiffly walking to a nearby table and sitting down to read his newspaper.

Miss Marple watched the couple's expressions carefully. Katherine was pointedly not looking at Mr. Brent even as a faint blush crept across her cheeks.

Mr. Horbury, on the other hand, was returning Mr. Brent's glare with unreserved hostility. Even the hotel clerk, just out from the kitchen with a fresh pot of tea in his hands, was shooting daggers at the newest diner.

"A bankruptcy scheme, you say?" Miss Marple asked, trying to draw her tablemates' attentions back to the conversation. "You must forgive me, Mr. Horbury, but I am simply hopeless when it comes to money matters. What exactly do you mean by 'bankruptcy scheme'?"

"I'm afraid my clients placed their trust-and all their money-with those who did not deserve it," he replied, growing quite angry as he glanced over at Mr. Brent's table once again. "Their money was invested in a business that went dry, so I am here to squeeze out as much money as possible for the hotel owners."

Miss Marple noted that, as Mr. Horbury had gone on, Katherine's smile had begun to disappear, as if she were trying to fade into the background. Not knowing exactly what the Irishwoman's connection to all this was, Miss Marple decided to sort it out by asking innocently, "The business went 'dry', you say? Meaning it failed?"

That was clearly the issue, for Katherine suddenly looked extremely uncomfortable, such that even Mr. Horbury noticed.

"Now don't fret yourself, dear," he said, giving Katherine's hand a comforting pat. "No one blames you for any of it. Inheriting the business so suddenly as you did, without any head for figures-it is not your fault. Besides, it is clear who the real villains in this piece are." And once again he cast a glare towards Mr. Brent's table. Miss Marple couldn't help but notice that it was not simply a glare of dislike; there was sheer hatred in his look, the sort which could cause a man to do almost anything.

Hoping to find a connection to the crime, Miss Marple commented lightly, "Speaking of villains, I do hope the police can sort out those responsible for last night's unpleasantness."

This seemingly casual comment caused both her breakfast companions to start.

"The police have arrested the two men responsible for that crime," Mr. Horbury quickly replied. "There's no need to concern ourselves with that-it's in the hands of the police now."

"But the man who died-wasn't he a business associate of yours, Miss Reilly?" Miss Marple asked. "I would think that might have some bearing on these bankruptcy hearings of yours, yes?"

It were as if that thought had never occurred to the solicitor, and he seemed quite upset by the prospect.

Katherine, on the other hand, was quick to point out, "His partner, Mr. Brent, was in charge of the money...from what I understand," she added self-consciously, as if suddenly worried that she shouldn't have such knowledge.

Mr. Horbury frowned, obviously not pleased with the entire situation. "Regardless, it might have an effect on the proceedings. I simply don't know what shall happen to the money now."

Katherine smiled up at the man. "I am certain you shall do your best for the family, no matter what the obstacles."

Mr. Horbury smiled down at her, as if nothing else really mattered besides impressing her.

But Miss Marple's attention was drawn away from the couple by Mr. Lester entering the lobby and crossing to the dining area. With his "niece" and her friend already off at the station, the gentleman was apparently eating by himself, choosing to sit at a table in the corner behind Miss Marple, pulling out a newspaper from under his arm and reading it, muttering every so often under his breath.

She almost laughed out loud when the waiter came over to take the man's order and he proceeded to give a rather lengthy and detailed account of how his eggs were to be done, ending with, "And no salt-my wife would never forgive me, and she's liable to be sore enough as it is. Well? What are you just standing there for? Get a move on!"

Mr. Lester went to look back down at his paper and caught Miss Marple's eye in the process. He simply raised his eyebrows, as if inquiring what exactly she was looking at, before shuffling his newspaper and raising it in front of his face once again.

Suddenly, the front door of the hotel opened and a police officer entered the lobby. "Excuse me, ladies and gentleman," the constable began, causing knives and forks to clatter onto plates. He cleared his throat nervously before continuing. "I'm looking for a...uh... Mr. Alfred Brent?" he asked, referring to his notepad.

"I am Alfred Brent," the man said, getting to his feet.

The policeman was only a young man, no more than twenty-five, and Miss Marple could see the sweat beginning to bead at his forehead.

"Yes-Yessir," the policeman stuttered over his words, "I...uh...I need to obtain a statement from you regarding the events of last night, Sir."

Mr. Brent's face was a blank mask, although something like fear flickered across his features for a split second before he nodded and hauled himself to his feet. "Of course. Anything to help the investigation."

Out of the corner of her eye, Miss Marple noticed the way Katherine's eyes followed Mr. Brent's figure as he exited the room with the policeman. It was not simply with curiosity but true concern, so Miss Marple was not surprised when the Irishwoman suddenly announced, "I'm sorry, Mr. Horbury, I'm afraid I've...I must go." She placed a hand upon his arm with a smile. "I hope I shall see you later."

With that, Katherine stood and hurried up the stairs and along the corridor where Mr. Brent had just disappeared with the constable. Mr. Horbury's eyes followed her as she went, a strange look upon his face that Miss Marple couldn't quite decipher. Love, anger, fear, jealousy-all these seemed to play across his features as he watched the woman disappear from sight. He then stood and had already taken several steps towards the corridor himself before he remembered his manners.

"I'm dreadfully sorry, Miss Marple," he said, turning back to her. "I just...you must excuse me," he said, not even bothering with an explanation.

Miss Marple nodded. "Of course. It was delightful to meet you, Mr. Horbury. Perhaps we shall see each other about the hotel?"

He nodded, clearly anxious to be elsewhere, before hurrying off.

Once he, too, was gone from sight, Miss Marple slowly lifted her teacup to her lips. The other guests had returned to their meals and the room had resumed its morning silence, barring a few mumbled conversations. After a moment, Mr. Lester received his food and immediately proceeded to tell off the hotel clerk for not listening to his elaborate egg instructions.

As the hotel clerk slunk away, the gentleman's irritated voice cried out across the dining room.

"I can't wait to get back to civilisation!"

...

_to be continued_


	8. Chapter 8

_Chapter 8_

As Miss Marple poured out the last of the tea from the pot, she saw the young couple from the night before starting down the stairs. They, like the girls and Mr. Lester before them, were still clad in their same clothes from last night, which looked wrinkled and dishevelled, but the couple themselves looked much better for their night's sleep. Heading across the lobby, the girl's eyes suddenly flashed with a look of recognition and relief.

"Lester's here," Abby said, eagerly starting towards the man in the pin-striped suit.

"What you doing?" her husband asked, putting a restraining hand upon her shoulder. Abby turned and gave him a strange look, and he continued, "Don'tcha think it'll look suspicious, all turning up on the night of the murder and us already knowing each other?"

"But we DO know each other, Connor," she pointed out. "They're bound to find out eventually, and it'd look far more suspicious if we lied about it."

Connor nodded. "I see your point. I mean, I s'pose we've got enough other stuff to worry about hiding, it's best not to start second guessing ourselves, yeah?"

And so the couple continued, joining the pin-striped man at his table behind Miss Marple. Realising it'd be prudent to linger over her tea, she gestured to the hotel clerk to bring her more hot water when he had the chance.

"So glad to see you, Lester," Abby said, evidently taking a seat as Miss Marple heard a chair scraping across the wood floor behind her.

"They rough you up at the station last night?" Connor asked, sounding almost eager.

"We're still in England," Mr. Lester said with annoyance. "It may not be what we're used to, but they're relatively civilised, meaning a man's still allowed his one phone call."

"Phone call?" Abby asked, sounding surprised. "Who on earth did you ring?"

"When one's worked in the government for as long as I have, one knows whom to call in an emergency," Mr. Lester answered vaguely, thereby confirming Miss Marple's suspicions as to his profession.

"And they took your call?" Abby sounded incredulous.

"Start spouting a few 'charlie x-ray foxtrots' and they don't bother to ask your name."

Miss Marple smiled to herself. Clearly the man was used to getting his own way...and thus his disappointment with his breakfast order.

"Super-cool!" Connor enthused. "So they send you money, too?"

"The British government? Are you mad? Some things haven't changed for centuries, and the British government's tight-fisted handling of funds is apparently one of them."

"Then how are you...how are WE paying for all this?" Abby asked, clearly worried.

"Oh, I was wired plenty of money...just not, shall we say, through 'official' channels."

Miss Marple turned around towards the window, pretending to cast a curious eye at the thick morning fog, and saw Mr. Lester pulling out a stack of currency.

"Whoa!" Connor exclaimed, clearly impressed. "That'll last us for months round here. How'd you get it?"

The government man shrugged. "There are certain things that are not yet general knowledge that certain members of parliament are rather eager to keep under their hats. Under-the-table deals, secret marriages, certain peculiar proclivities-the cost of keeping such secrets can be quite steep."

"Lester!" Abby scolded, sounding appalled at his shady dealings. "We're not relying on extortion to get by here!"

"Fine," he said, yanking the money away from her. "Then go get an honest job, for all I care."

"We're fine with it. Really," Connor insisted, reaching across the table to take some of the notes.

Blackmail, Miss Marple thought as she turned back to her tea. So these players might not be directly involved in the murder, but they weren't exactly clean. She would definitely need to keep an eye on them all.

"So what about the others?" Abby asked. "Are they okay?"

"Unfortunately my calls couldn't get Becker and Matt out of detention, but the police won't be able to hold them there for long."

"They're probably getting a kick out of it," Connor commented. "More war stories to brag about when we get home: 'and then we was held for days, being grilled by the coppers, but we never cracked.'"

"Connor," Abby scolded. Her tone softened as she inquired, "And the girls?"

"Oh, yes. My-ahem-'nieces' travelled back from the station with me last night and slept in my room."

It was clear from his tone that the familial relationship was not sincere, and Miss Marple couldn't help but wonder what the real relationship between them was. The two girls had barely spoken of him this morning, so she sensed they were more likely workplace acquaintances rather than anything untoward.

"Ooh, bunking with 'Uncle Jimmy', eh?" Connor teased, and although Miss Marple's back was turned, she could practically feel the glare from the government man.

"Are they still about?" Abby asked.

"No, they left early to go check on Matt and Becker," Lester explained. "Besides, we didn't think it seemly to be seen exiting the room at the same time."

"Afraid your wife'll find out and get the wrong idea?" Connor teased. "Don't think you need to be worrying about that-we got pleny of other stuff to keep us worried. For one thing, chances are we might be here for awhile."

"In that case, we'll need new clothes," Abby said, and Miss Marple heard Mr. Lester give a frustrated sigh. "I'm not talking about some frivolous shopping spree, Lester," she went on. "But we can't be seen in the same clothes day after day-it's liable to draw suspicion. And our frocks don't exactly fit in here."

"I suppose you're right," the government man said. "But try to find bargains-our money supply isn't unlimited, you know."

"It's a Saturday in April," Abby pointed out. "I was hoping to find a few jumble sales about. And perhaps I can check out Oxfam as well...assuming they even have those here."

"Yes, well, I suppose you'd best get me a few shirts as well," Mr. Lester said. "Another night of sleeping in this one and even my 'nieces' won't want to come near me."

"Will do," Abby replied.

"And I'm gonna look for electronics and such," Connor said. "I'm endeavouring to construct a detector using stone knives and bearskins."

Abby frowned, pointing out, "I think they're slightly more advanced than that."

"No, dontcha get it? 'Stone knives and bearskins?' Mr. Spock? _The City on the Edge of Forever_?" His tablemates evidently didn't understand what he was talking about for the young man gave a frustrated sigh, concluding, "Man, I hate being surrounded by cultural illiterates!"

Clearly ignoring his comment, Mr. Lester asked, "Do you really think you can put together a detector?"

A detector for what, Miss Marple wondered. But before she could listen in on more of the conversation, she suddenly realised that she herself was being spoken to.

"Sorry for the delay," the hotel clerk apologised as he placed the pot of hot tea in front of her.

"What?" Miss Marple asked, a bit flustered, before realising what he'd said. "Oh, yes, thank you. And the place does seem quite busy this morning."

The clerk gave a dismissive snort before lowering his voice and asking, "So, do you know her?"

Miss Marple nodded her head to the table behind, hoping that her eavesdropping hadn't been as obvious as all that. "The blonde girl?" she asked. "No, I've never met her."

But the clerk shook his head. "No, not her. I meant the one who joined you for tea this morning. Miss Reilly." He practically spat out her name, his tone quite venomous.

"No, I'm afraid I only made her acquaintance last night. Why?"

He shook his head, replying, "Just be careful. She's not to be trusted. None of them are!" He then nodded to her tea, adding, "Enjoy," before hurrying away, leaving Miss Marple quite bewildered as to what had brought on such an outburst. Hadn't Mr. Horbury said something about working for the hotel owners? Could that explain the clerk's hostility?

But her attention was soon drawn back into the conversation that was continuing behind her.

"Yes, yes, I know," Mr. Lester was saying, sounding quite impatient. "Just get it made quickly and spare me the details. All I want is to go home, and the sooner, the better."

Were they still discussing the "detector", Miss Marple wondered. And why couldn't they simply "go home" now? It didn't sound like they were merely waiting for their friends to be released.

"Ah, c'mon, Lester, look on the bright side," Connor encouraged. "This'll be fun. Just think of it as a little unscheduled R&R."

"That's easy for you to say," the government man replied. "You didn't leave your wife behind at the drink station. I just hope the Minister saw her home safely afterwards, as I've still our car keys in my pocket. I imagine she'll have my guts for garters once I finally get home."

The girl suddenly gave a gasp. "Oh my God-Rex!"

"He'll be fine," Connor quickly soothed.

"But how? Who'll feed him while we're away?"

A pet, Mis Marple concluded. Probably a dog, from the name. But that meant there had been no advance planning whatsoever for this little sojourn. Interesting.

"Abby, he survived a whole year when we was gone before," Connor said. "Someone will think to look after him. He'll be fine-I promise. Now c'mon, we'd best be off," he added, and Miss Marple heard a chair scrape across the wooden floor. "And Lester, we'll check back in with you later."

"Where shall we find you?" Abby asked.

"In this weather? Are you kidding?" Lester asked, clearly disgusted with the fog.

"Well, whatever you end up doing, try to stay out of trouble," Connor teased. "We'll catch up with you later, yeah?"

Miss Marple turned to watch the couple exit. She then met Mr. Lester's eye and gave him a warm smile, but he merely gave an annoyed eyeroll, as if friendly interactions with strangers were the last thing he was interested in on this chilly morning.

Miss Marple sighed, realising she couldn't extend her breakfast any longer without drawing suspicion to herself. So she took one last sip of her tea and headed for her room. After all, she had a full day of investigating ahead of her.

...

_to be continued_


	9. Chapter 9

_Chapter 9_

Miss Marple collected what she needed from her room and returned to the lobby. Instead of settling herself on one of the settees, she made her way across to the fireplace in the far corner . She chose her position wisely, taking a seat upon a comfy chair adjacent to the front desk. From this position, she could see all who entered the hotel and could hear all the hotel business that might be conducted at the counter behind her whilst still giving the illusion of merely enjoying the comfort of the roaring fire.

Once settled, Miss Marple pulled out her knitting. She'd brought a sweater to work on, but the pattern involved complicated cabling-not the sort of thing she could mindlessly work on whilst sleuthing. Luckily, she always travelled with sock yarn, and she pulled this out now and began casting on, the pattern so simple she could practically do it in her sleep.

A good thing, too, for no sooner had she begun than a voice sounded from behind the desk.

"Rotten weather, what? Sorry it's ruining your holiday."

Miss Marple turned and smiled up at the hotel clerk behind the counter. "True, this in not how I had intended to spend my holiday at the seaside." She shrugged, gesturing to her yarn as she continued, "Still, I plan to make the most of my time here." Of course, she was actually referring to sleuthing, not knitting, but he needn't know that.

"Well, you just let me know if you need tea or more firewood or anything."

Miss Marple nodded. "Thank you; I shall."

As she turned back towards her knitting, she saw the two girls entering the hotel. Seeing their gentleman friends at the station had seemed to do them both a world of good for they were positively glowing. In fact, young Jess' cheeks were so rosy, they practically clashed with the bright red of her hat.

As the two girls crossed the lobby, Miss Marple overheard part of their conversation. It was clear their male companions were foremost on both their minds, although their responses were drastically different.

"I still can't believe this happened," Jess said, clearly upset.

Emily, however, seemed to shrug off her friend's concern. "They are safe and well for now."

"WELL?! They're in gaol for murder!"

Emily shook her head. "You heard the inspector. There is not much evidence to link them to the crime, other than simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I doubt they shall be held much more than a day."

Jess gave an exasperated sigh. "How can you be so calm about all this?"

"Because it could have been far worse," Emily replied matter-of-factly, as if she spoke from experience. Miss Marple found the Lady quite intriguing and looked forward to learning more.

"Well," Jess began, suddenly sounding cheerier, as if she'd come to some decision, "it's clear what we need to do now."

Emily stared doubtfully at her friend. "It is?"

"Certainly! The boys described everyone who was there when the door opened. So we must go interview them."

Lady Merchant frowned. "Is that not a job for the police?"

Miss Marple had been thinking the same thing, but Jess quickly shook her head. "The police think Matt & Becker did it-we can't rely on them. So it's up to us to find the real killer so the boys can be set free." She smiled, adding, "Besides, it should be fun! I feel so Nancy Drew already."

Emily looked confused. "Who is Nancy Drew?"

"Oh, YOU know," Jess insisted. "She's like a teenage female version of Sherlock Holmes."

This explanation didn't seem to help clarify things for Lady Merchant for she asked, "Who is Sherlock Holmes?"

Jess looked astounded. "Clearly you need to watch more BBC."

Miss Marple had been following their conversation with amusement but was quite confused by this last comment-how exactly did one "watch" a radio broadcast? she wondered.

The auburn-haired girl went on. "Now c'mon. Doesn't that hotel clerk match one of the descriptions Matt gave us? Let's start with him."

Jess passed by Miss Marple without a second glance and marched straight up to the front desk, with Emily close behind.

"Pardon? Sir? May we speak to you for a minute?"

Although Miss Marple could not see the clerk's reaction, she remembered his response to the girls' revealing clothing the night before and therefore was not a bit surprised when she heard his voice reply, "Of course, ladies. How may I be of service? I hope you are enjoying your stay so far with...your uncle, I believe?"

"Oh, yes, and it's lovely here," Jess said, clearly trying to put the man at ease. "We just wanted to ask you a few questions, if we may? You see, our friends were...I mean, last night, they were mistaken for-"

Emily's deeper voice quickly cut in. "What Miss Parker is trying to say is that she and I were intrigued to learn that a crime occurred here last night before we arrived, and we are curious to learn more about it."

"Now don't you two lovely ladies go fretting none about that," the hotel clerk replied. "The man that died weren't no saint and, begging your pardons, as far as I'm concerned, he seemed to have got what he deserved."

"Goodness!" Jess exclaimed, and even Miss Marple was surprised at the venom in the man's voice.

Lady Merchant, however, seemed unruffled, for she coolly asked, "So you knew him?"

"Unfortunately," the clerk replied. "A dirty thief and a liar, and I regret the day I ever placed my trust in him."

"What happened?" Jess asked.

"He stole all my family's money, that's what happened. He and his partner Alfred Brent. They claimed to be investors, but as far as I'm concerned, real investors should know better than to invest in companies doomed to fail. But instead they went ahead and threw away all our money...and to the damn Micks! Now it's all gone, and we're liable to lose this place."

Obviously ignoring the derogatory comment about her fiance's heritage, Emily simply asked, "Your family owns this hotel?".

The clerk shrugged. "Yes and no. We own the business outright, but there's still a large loan left on the land itself. Seafront property ain't cheap, you know, even in the middle of nowhere. We've been doing alright, so we thought we'd invest so we could do some improvements in a few years. But now the money's gone and the loan is due. Who knows how long we'll be able to stay above water. I'm just hoping Mr. Horbury is able to squeeze something out of them."

"Mr. Horbury?" Jess repeated curiously.

"My solicitor."

Of course, none of this was news to Miss Marple, but it did make her think. In the clerk's mind, Katherine's company was as much to blame as the investors themselves, which explained his obvious hatred he'd expressed towards her earlier. So how must he feel seeing his own solicitor spending so much time with "the enemy"? Why would Mr. Horbury risk alienating his client so?

But suddenly Mr. Horbury's smitten smile at breakfast was replaced in Miss Marple's mind with an image of Superintendent Harper overfilling her teacup, and Miss Marple smiled. Mr. Horbury's thoughts, like the Inspector's, were clearly focused elsewhere, at least when a pretty young face was about.

"Pardon me, sir?"

Miss Marple jumped at the sudden sound of a new, masculine voice sounding at the desk behind her, and she craned her neck around the edge of her chair to see the uniformed police constable from breakfast approaching from the stairs.

The girls took this as their clue to leave, and Emily politely offered, "Thank you so much for your time, Mister...?"

"Campbell. Brian Campbell. And I hope you lovely ladies enjoy your stay here."

As the P.C. began to ask the clerk for room numbers for the various witnesses, Jess turned from the desk and, in doing so, locked eyes with Miss Marple, who was still swivelled in her chair.

"Miss Marple!" the girl exclaimed. "Why, I didn't even see you there. Nor the fire. That's certainly a good idea." The girl rushed over and took a seat on the hearth, and Miss Marple noticed for the first time that the poor girl was shivering. Of course, in her scandalously short frock, it was no wonder.

"You should go put on a cardigan," Miss Marple suggested. "You look positively frozen."

"I would if I could, but we left the reception so-"

"She did not pack one," Lady Merchant quickly stepped in to finish for her friend. "Neither of us did, I am afraid," she added, edging closer to the warmth of the fire herself.

Miss Marple frowned. She felt certain that no packing whatsoever had been done by the girls, for why else would they still be in their same eveningwear from last night? Jess had mentioned a reception-that would partly explain their clothes. But why had they left so suddenly? And why leave behind one's wrap when it was raining out? This brought to mind the rip of fabric upon the branch, and Miss Marple made a mental note to tell the Inspector about it when next she saw him.

In the meantime, she was eager to learn more from the girls. Pretending to look intently at the sock she was knitting, she tried to ask casually, "So were you able to see your gentleman friends this morning?"

"Yes," Jess answered eagerly but then said nothing further, and Miss Marple glanced up to see Lady Merchant glaring her friend into silence.

"I take it they are being treated well?" Miss Marple asked, curious to see if she could get more out of them.

But what she got instead was an excited, "Abby!" Jess stood and hurried across the lobby towards the blonde girl, who had just entered the front door carrying several shopping bags. "You're here! And you went shopping!"

Abby nodded, setting the bags down upon a coffee table on the far side of the lobby, and Miss Marple strained to catch her words. "I went out and got us some clothes. Thought we should try to fit in." She eyed Jess' hat meaningfully before sharing a look with Emily, who had also crossed to join them.

"And Connor?" Emily asked.

"He's out buying items for a detector."

"That'll come in handy-after all, we don't want to miss it," Jess said. "Now let's go try on clothes, shall we?" She picked up one of the shopping bags and eagerly headed towards the stairs.

"I picked us up some shoes as well," Abby explained as she and Emily followed. "Didn't think we'd want to be stuck in pumps day in and day out."

"Shoes!" Jess practically squealed with delight. "Ooh, I can hardly wait!"

And Miss Marple watched as the three girls disappeared down the corridor.

...

_to be continued_


	10. Chapter 10

_Chapter 10_

The rest of the morning was mostly uneventful. Miss Marple watched the comings and goings of the various guests but learnt little more about the crime.

When the midday meal arrived, she was surprised not to see Jess and the others; however, she noticed the hotel clerk heading up the stairs with a well-laden tray and guessed it was for their company.

Without them to interact with, Miss Marple decided to continue her inquiries elsewhere. Convinced that Jess and her friends were unrelated to the murder narrowed the list of suspects significantly, so she chose to dine with the elderly couple she'd seen in the corridor last night. Their story, whilst fairly similar to her own, did manage to shine some light on one particular fact. It seemed the husband had been awake and just putting on his dressing gown for a late-night trip to the loo when he'd heard the gunshot. Already dressed, he'd therefore made it out to the corridor much sooner than Miss Marple, only to find Mr. Horbury "suspiciously" already at Mr. Brent's door.

"But remember, dear," the elder woman gently reminded her husband, "the man was fully clad in his street clothes-no doubt he'd simply been in the corridor when the shot was fired."

It was clear from the woman's tone that her husband was prone to exaggeration and suspicion, but regardless, Miss Marple made a mental note to innocently inquire as to what Mr. Horbury had been doing at the time of the gunshot when next she spoke with him.

After their pleasant meal together, the couple excused themselves, determined to take a short afternoon drive together despite the dreary weather. Miss Marple, too, thought a change of scenery might be warranted and thus took a seat upon a settee in the centre of the lobby before resuming her twin occupations of knitting and sleuthing. She hadn't gotten far in the former task when the front door opened and S.I. Harper arrived to assist her with the latter.

"How is the investigation going?" she asked cheerfully as he took a seat next to her upon a comfy chair.

The inspector, however, shook his head, his forehead crinkling not with consternation but with confusion. "It's not," he admitted.

"Come, come, Inspector," Miss Marple soothed. "It can't be as bad as all that. Surely you've gathered some new information today."

"Not about our two suspects, I'm afraid. I spent my entire morning attempting to gain some insight into them and have absolutely nothing to show for it. It's as if they both simply materialised from out of the blue-I can find no records of their existence anywhere."

"Not even the War Office?" Miss Marple recalled Jess mentioning that the two men had been in the army together.

Harper, however, shook his head. "I even rang my contact in Dublin to run a check, but he also could find no trace of either Mr. Anderson or his friend." The inspector sighed, concluding, "They must have given false names."

But Miss Marple couldn't believe it. After all, she'd heard their associates consistently using those same names, even when they thought their conversations were not being overheard. Although they were all clearly hiding something, their true names didn't seem to be a part of that deception.

But then why couldn't their identities be confirmed, Miss Marple wondered. It made no sense.

However, before she could communicate these thoughts, S.I. Harper went on: "Yet somehow, despite all that, something in my gut tells me they're not responsible for the murder."

Miss Marple smiled-it was nice to know she was not alone in her instincts. "Yes, I'm glad you've come to that same conclusion."

Her friend raised a curious eyebrow, evidently interested in what had made her reach it.

"From what I've been able to deduce," she explained, "the two men arrived here last night with five companions."

"Five?" The inspector seemed surprised.

Miss Marple nodded. "The two young ladies, whom you've already met; Mr. Lester, the unpleasant gentleman from the crime scene who now claims to be Miss Parker's uncle; and a young couple, the Temples."

Harper looked impressed, obviously unaware until now that they were all connected. "So what are they all doing here?" he asked. "And why did they conveniently arrive the night of the murder?"

"Your guess is as good as mine." Mr. Lester's extortion conversation flickered through her mind and she added, "They're definitely up to something. Plenty of lies being told by all, clearly trying to obscure why they're here. But I'm convinced it's naught to do with the murder."

"Regardless, I should probably interrogate them." At Miss Marple's inquiring gaze, he clarified, "Though not officially, of course. But it is quite a coincidence, them arriving when they did. And if YOU'RE certain there's something going on with them, then I'm determined to get to..."

He trailed off, his attention suddenly drawn to the stairs, and Miss Marple knew instantly, even before turning to look, who must be approaching. It was, in fact, the two young ladies they had just been speaking of, now clad in more sensible attire.

Well, Lady Merchant's was more sensible-a smart tweed suit jacket and matching straight skirt-but Jess, although now wearing a simple blue daytime dress and no hat, was clad in ridiculously fancy high heels, obviously meant for an evening on the town and not everyday wear. In contrast, her hair was now pulled into two pigtails, tied up with blue ribbons, making her look even younger and, if possible, even more innocent than previously.

Her new look, however, seemed to be having the same old effect on the Inspector, and Miss Marple realised that, despite what he'd just said, any interrogation of these witnesses must be done by her if it were to be done at all.

There was no need to call them over, for the moment the younger girl caught sight of Miss Marple and S.I. Harper, she beamed and headed straight for them, her friend following at a more staid pace.

"Inspector Harper, it's so good to see you again," Jess gushed as she hurried over. "Thank you so much for letting us see our friends this morning. It's nice to know they are in such good hands whilst they're... I mean, if they're going to be in custody, it's a relief that..."

"How much longer do you intend to hold them?" Emily asked coolly as she joined them.

Harper forced himself to tear his eyes away from Jess to respond to the lady. "Well...uh... we must... there are things we..."

Miss Marple decided to take pity on the poor man and quickly intervened. "Inspector Harper and I were just about to have tea-we would love for you to join us."

"Oh, that would be lovely," Jess said, eagerly settling herself upon the window seat near the Inspector. "I'm just dying to hear all about how the investigation is going."

"Investigation?" he repeated blankly, as if it were a foreign word he was unfamiliar with.

Miss Marple knew she should come to his rescue once again, but she was busy glancing about the lobby looking for the hotel clerk so her invitation to tea could be justified. It was a bit early for a proper tea, but hopefully they could at least get a pot for the moment. But the hotel clerk wasn't to be found, and Miss Marple was conflicted-should she stay and assist the Inspector or go in search of their tea?

Lady Merchant must have quickly sized up the situation for she turned and strode determinedly towards the front desk, calling out, "We require tea," as if she were used to ordering servants about. Coming from anyone else, it might've seemed rude or disrespectful, but her elegant manner-not to mention her striking beauty-must've tempered the demand in Mr. Campbell's eyes for Miss Marple heard him eagerly respond, "Yes, Miss-I'll have it out to you straightaway."

With that bit of business taken care of, Miss Marple responded to Jess' earlier question. "I'm afraid it would be improper for the Inspector to talk about an on-going investigation."

Harper gave a short sigh of relief at her comment, but Jess blushed and quickly apologised.

"Oh, of course! I should've realised! I mean, I'd hate for you to get in trouble or anything. Forget I even asked." The girl seemed truly distraught at the idea of causing trouble for the inspector, which made Miss Marple smile-perhaps the girl was truly as sweet and innocent as she appeared.

Whereas her friend, whilst pleasant, seemed to have a one-track mind. As the lady rejoined them, taking a seat next to her friend upon the window seat, she asked pointedly, "Might you at least give us an indication of how long you intend to detain our companions?"

Luckily Harper was recused from having to answer by the sudden appearance of Mr. Campbell with a heavily laden tea tray. He set it down upon the coffee table betwixt them, apologising for not yet having any comestibles prepared and inquiring whether they required anything more at present. By the time he hurried off, Miss Marple could tell, by Harper's moony expression, that the lady's question had long since been forgotten, though no doubt Emily would bring it up again. So as to delay the question further, Miss Marple quickly commented in a casual tone, "So what has kept you two occupied all day in this horrid weather?"

Jess' eyes twinkled with merriment as she replied, "Would you believe, we've been conducting our own murder investigation."

"Jess," Emily hissed under her breath, but the young girl turned to her friend, insisting, "Surely it can't hurt to tell the Inspector." The lady opened her mouth to protest again, but Jess quickly continued, "Think about it, Em. The sooner the Inspector learns who the real murderer is, the sooner he'll let Matt and Becker out."

Naturally, this immediately curbed any protestations the lady might've had, and Miss Marple couldn't help but smile-it seemed Jess was far shrewder than she appeared on the surface.

Of course, all this was news to Harper, who repeated, surprised, "You're conducting your own murder investigation?"

Jess turned back to him, an excited grin upon her pretty face. "Are we ever! And I'm convinced that Brian..." She suddenly paused, glancing about nervously to make sure the man she was speaking of wasn't anywhere about before leaning in towards the inspector and continuing in a near whisper, "The hotel clerk, Brian Campbell-I'm certain he's the real murderer."

Harper's eyebrows raised in surprise, making it clear that the clerk wasn't even on the inspector's short list at the moment.

Realising Jess probably needed some prompting to continue, Miss Marple asked, "Mr. Campbell? But he seems so nice."

Jess let out a sardonic laugh, as if she were far more worldly wise than the little old lady she was talking to. "Many people can SEEM nice," she stated knowingly, "but that doesn't mean they can't become cold-blooded killers if provoked."

Such a serious statement coming from this young girl in pigtails might've seemed laughable under other circumstances, but Miss Marple reminded herself that a man was dead and the girl's friends were incarcerated for the murder-such things were likely to make one grow up rather quickly.

And the Inspector was certainly taking her seriously as he asked, "But what makes you think Mr. Campbell is the killer?"

"Well," Jess began before launching into a detailed account of all she'd learnt about the hotel clerk. S.I. Harper seemed to listen with rapt attention, although Miss Marple couldn't tell whether his interest lay more in the tale itself or merely the teller.

"And remember," the girl finally concluded, "as desk clerk, he'd have full access to all the rooms."

This detail caught Miss Marple's attention. She hadn't given much thought to the implications of the locked door, but Jess made a valid point.

The Inspector, however, seemed focused on a different detail. "From the information we've gathered," he pointed out, "the partner seemed to be more in charge of the company finances than the victim, so you would think Mr. Campbell would have held more of a grudge against Mr. Brent."

"Well, the victim was killed in Mr. Brent's room," Miss Marple pointed out.

This clearly was news to Jess, and the fact had obviously been forgotten by Harper, for they both started with surprise.

"Mr. Brent's room!" Jess exclaimed before smiling thoughtfully. "Why, that certainly explains a lot, doesn't it?"

"It does?" the Inspector asked.

"Of course," Jess said. "The victim was obviously not the INTENDED victim! The clerk must've meant to kill Mr. Brent who, as you said, was in charge of the finances." In her excitement at this investigative breakthrough, Jess eagerly grabbed the inspector's hand as she continued, "But Mr. Evans was in the room instead and was killed by mistake! Now it all fits together! Oh, it's brilliant, don't you think?"

Only it was clear that Harper was only thinking of how nice Jess' hand felt in his. Miss Marple would've tried to make some reply to Jess' insights, encouraging the girl in her suppositions, but she was too involved in thinking them through herself. The girl made a valid point, one Miss Marple had not yet considered - what if Sidney hadn't been the person meant to be killed? Oftentimes the victim was simply not meant to be, thus confusing the investigation by clouding the motives, and that could definitely be the case here. After all, now that she thought about it, she recalled the witnesses in the corridor seeming almost more surprised to see Mr. Brent arrive, alive and well, than to find Mr. Evans' dead body. Had the hotel clerk still been there when Mr. Brent arrived? Miss Marple couldn't remember, but perhaps Harper could give her a chance to review the witness interviews to see if this theory fit with the facts.

Lady Merchant, however, did not seem to think it did. "But what about...?" she asked, finishing her thought not with words but with a pointed look, one her friend seemed to understand for she instantly frowned.

"True. But we know they're at least connected," Jess pointed out, making Miss Marple curious as to who, or what, "they" was now being discussed. Miss Marple attempted to share a look with Harper, to see if he might know, but he was clearly not following the conversation because Jess still had an absent hold of his hand.

"But that sort of connection," Emily began. "That would not explain..." And again she finished her sentence with only a pointed look.

However, Jess was no longer second guessing herself. "I'm sure it can be explained, once we do more investigating. Maybe there was more than just a business relationship. Maybe-"

Her sentence cut off as the front door flew open with a loud bang. The assembled turned to see Connor hurrying in, awkwardly balancing an armload of items whilst trying to manoeuvre the doorknob. Harper jumped to his feet and shut the door behind the young man as he stumbled in, dropping his odds and ends upon the coffee table next to the tea tray.

"Connor, what is all this?" Jess asked as she picked up what looked to be an electrical plug.

"It's a detector," he announced. "Or it will be, once I get it all fitted up."

"That's brilliant!" Jess said. "How long will it take you to-?"

Lady Merchant cleared her throat. "I do not believe this is an appropriate topic of conversation for the lobby," she said pointedly, her eyes flickering towards Miss Marple and the Inspector.

Connor shrugged. "Don't see how me saying how long it'll take is a state secret."

"Well then?" Jess prompted eagerly, "How long will it take you?"

He shrugged once again. "No idea, actually."

Emily sighed, rolling her eyes, but Miss Marple barely noticed, as she was busy noticing something else.

"Is that, perhaps, a police callbox on your necktie?" she asked, extremely intrigued. Seeing his bright blue necktie close-up for the first time, she now realised that the pattern adorning it was not simply a random geometric pattern of white squares but was, in fact, the familiar object.

Connor grinned, looking down at it. "Yeah, ain't it the best? Abby bought it for me last Christmas-got it off some doctor who-"

"I believe Abby purchased you a new one," Lady Merchant stopped him, disappointing Miss Marple, who was now even more curious about the object, for why would a doctor need a necktie imprinted with a police callbox?

"Oh yes, and she got you some new shirts as well," Jess jumped in. "And a hat!"

"A hat?" Connor grinned. "Super cool!" He started towards the stairs, calling back, "She in our room?"

"I believe so," Lady Merchant said, and he hurried out of earshot before she could add, "Should you not take your...?" She finished in a sigh, turning back to look at the mess he'd left behind.

Jess stood and began gathering up the items from the coffee table, saying, "I'll take these up to him."

"Here," Harper said, jumping to his feet. "Let me help you."

"Oh, that'd be lovely," Jess said, grinning sweetly at him as he eagerly grabbed more than his share of the electronic detritus. Miss Marple could only hope that the inspector was planning to gain more insight as to what object was to be built with the pieces, but she knew his interest lay only in spending more time with Jess.

"This way," Jess said, leading the way towards the stairs as he eagerly followed like a lovesick puppy dog.

Leaving behind only Miss Marple, Lady Merchant, and the still untouched pot of tea.

...

_to be continued_


	11. Chapter 11

_Chapter 11_

Being thus left alone with the reserved young lady, Miss Marple attempted to make friendly conversation.

"Your friend certainly seems excited about his electronics project."

Emily nodded, replying guardedly, "Yes, indeed."

It was clear that Miss Marple wasn't going to get any information out of her in regards to this "detector" Connor was planning to make, so she chose a new topic. "Your jacket is quite becoming. Was it purchased by your friend-Mrs. Temple, is it?"

The girl looked momentarily surprised before realisation dawned, making Miss Marple wonder if her initial instincts about the couple not being married had been correct. But Emily quickly confirmed, "Ah yes, Mrs. Temple bought it."

Unfortunately, the girl said nothing more, once again bringing the conversation to an absolute standstill. This certainly would be easier if Lady Merchant were as gregarious as her young friend! So Miss Marple resorted to her old fallback-the weather. "That was quite a storm last night, though I am not certain this fog is much of an improvement."

"It is springtime in England," the girl replied matter-of-factly. "What else should one expect?"

The girl made a good point, though it didn't do much to continue the conversational flow. But before Miss Marple could come up with a response, a movement upon the stairs caught her eye. Turning her head, she caught sight of Katherine hurrying into the lobby, glancing about. It was clear she was looking for someone in particular as her eyes scanned the room for she did not even acknowledge Miss Marple's friendly smile when their eyes briefly met. However, the lobby had grown quite empty, and it didn't take Katherine much time to determine that whomever she was searching for was not present, a fact that seemed to cause her some distress.

"Miss Reilly," Miss Marple called out to her, "is everything all right?"

The young woman spun her head around at the sound of her name, but her shoulders visibly relaxed when she recognised the speaker. "Miss Marple," she greeted, walking over to her. "I was just-" She stopped herself, instead finishing with, "I am fine, thank you."

"Won't you join us?" Miss Marple suggested, gesturing from the teapot to the empty chair. When the young woman looked warily at Emily, Miss Marple quickly introduced, "I don't believe you two have met. Miss Reilly, this is Lady Merchant."

Miss Marple noticed two very different reactions upon hearing the title spoken aloud. The Lady herself cringed, as if she regretted ever having revealed her true identity. Katherine, on the other hand, marvelled at the revelation, her eyes lighting up and her entire demeanor changing, as if suddenly wanting to impress this stranger, now that she was aware of her importance.

"Lovely to meet you, m'Lady," Katherine said in a sickeningly sweet tone that almost made Miss Marple cringe at its affectation.

"Likewise," Emily replied politely, though her tense posture made it clear she was ready to bolt.

Quickly Miss Marple picked up the teapot, saying, "A spot of tea would probably do us all some good." She poured Emily's first, hoping the girl's engrained politeness would convince her that she should at least linger for a cup. It seemed to do the trick, for Emily took a sip and sat back, visibly relaxed.

"Nothing quite like tea on a wretched afternoon such as this," Miss Marple said as she poured a cup for Katherine.

Lady Merchant agreed, giving a contented sigh. "Oh, how I've missed this," she said, taking another long sip.

"Tea?" Katherine asked, clearly confused by the lady's statement.

Emily nodded. "I do not drink as much tea as I would like anymore. You see, Matt-my fiance," she quickly corrected herself, "he is, unfortunately, a coffee-drinker."

"And yet you still plan to marry him?" Katherine teased, laughing shrilly afterwards as if she were infinitely amused by her own wit.

Emily, however, must have missed the other girl's joking tone for she instantly tensed. "There are far more important things to consider in a future husband than mere beverage preference."

Miss Marple could tell that Katherine had touched a nerve, and she wondered if perhaps this engagement-if it truly was one-was not the Lady's first.

In order to get Emily to open up more, Miss Marple commented, "Whilst I have never had a husband myself, I have seen many marriages over the years, some happy and some miserable. The happy ones, while different on the surface, were much alike underneath, for they all had love at their core, but the miserable ones were each miserable in their own unique way."

Emily nodded gravely, mumbling absently to herself, "I am certain no other marriage had the same complications as mine."

"You're married?" Katherine asked, looking genuinely surprised.

"I was, but am no longer," Emily stated matter-of factly. "You see, he is dead now."

"I am sorry for your loss," Miss Marple said, although she sensed that the girl was not completely devastated by it.

"Was he killed in the War?" Katherine asked.

Emily looked momentarily confused. "War?" she repeated blankly, as if the entire concept were foreign to her, before quickly going on, "Oh yes. Of course. The War. Yes. He was killed in the War."

Miss Marple studied the girl's face, trying to determine what was meant by her strange response. The War had ended just four years before, so even if Lady Merchant's marriage had been more recent than that, she shouldn't have seemed so bewildered by Katherine's question. And why lie about how her husband had died? Miss Marple somehow sensed that Emily had done nothing nefarious, yet it was clear she was trying to hide something. But what? And why?

"Your marriage, I take it, was not a happy one?" Miss Marple asked simply, hoping to learn more.

"No. As you stated, one needs love for a happy marriage."

Katherine seemed flabbergasted. "But why marry if not for love?"

The lady was quite blunt upon the subject. "We had money, he had a title-my father arranged the whole thing."

Miss Marple should've guessed-money was at the heart of so many bad decisions.

But Katherine seemed to be focussing on another detail. "Ah yes, fathers. They do so enjoy running our lives, don't they? Or should I say RUINING?" she added with a grin before going on. "Not that my father didn't have my best interests at heart, and how was he to have known he would die so soon, leaving the business to me. He'd be so disappointed to know that the business has...failed." It were as if she didn't want to speak the word aloud, as if saying it would make it more real. "If only we'd simply stuck with investors from our own country, perhaps we would've been better off." She sighed before concluding, "Perhaps it's for the best that he's passed on."

Miss Marple remembered what she'd overheard this morning when Jess had been questioning the hotel clerk and realised Katherine had a motive for the crime as well. The English investors had run her family's company into the ground as soon as her father had died-it wasn't much of a leap to think that they'd ruined her life and therefore must pay the ultimate price.

Emily, however, merely responded with a nod. Miss Marple couldn't tell if she, too, were connecting this to what she'd learnt earlier or was merely being polite, as the lady seemed to play her hand quite close to her chest.

"And what about your father, Lady Merchant?" Katherine went on. "Is he still alive?"

Emily did not answer straightaway, almost as if calculating something in her head. "No, I do not expect so." Miss Marple stared at the lady, intrigued, and she quickly explained, "I have not seen him for...many years."

Miss Marple imagined there was a story behind that as well, but she didn't get to ask anything further for voices were heard upon the stairs.

"Oh yes, Superintendent," Jess' voice carried across the lobby, her joyous laugh almost infectious. "That would be absolutely lovely."

The three females sat about the tea table all looked up to see S.I. Harper and young Jess hurrying down the stairs.

"Did you get Connor's items securely put away?" Emily asked.

"Yes, Inspector Harper was EVER so helpful!" Jess replied with a grin, and Miss Marple noticed Harper's chest swell with pride, obviously pleased with himself that he'd made such a great impression on the girl.

But his smile faded as she went on, "And he's offered to drive us back to the station."

"Us?" he repeated forlornly, making it clear that his offer for the drive had NOT included Emily.

It was unclear whether Lady Merchant realised this as well, but she quickly turned to Katherine. "I am sorry, I do not believe you have yet met my friend and...her companion. This is Miss Jessica Parker and Superintendent Harper."

"Pleased to meet you," Jess said, offering her hand to the woman. "And you are...?"

"Miss Katherine Reilly."

Jess stopped mid-shake to stare at the woman and exclaim, "So YOU'RE Katherine?!"

...

_to be continued_


	12. Chapter 12

_Chapter 12_

Several things then proceeded to happen at once. Katherine, quite taken aback by Jess' intense reaction to her name, quickly drew back her hand as if it had been burnt. Inspector Harper, similarly as surprised, turned to Jess, asking, "How do you know of Katherine?" And Lady Merchant, after shooting a glare towards her young friend, jumped to her feet, effectively separating the two women.

"Please forgive my friend," Emily hastily explained, clearly uncomfortable with the role of peacemaker. "She...WE have been asking about the hotel today, and your name has come up several times. You see, our friends have been arrested for the killing last night."

"Oh! I see!" Katherine was clearly intrigued by this piece of information and thus was ready to accept the lady's explanation. "But how did your friends know Sidney?"

"They didn't," Jess quickly jumped in, an accusatory tone in her voice as she went on, "but YOU did, didn't you?"

Obviously worried about what her young friend might say next, Lady Merchant turned towards Inspector Harper, stating pointedly, "We would like you to take us to the station now, Inspector, if you would?"

"Huh?" the Superintendent said, having been paying more attention to Jess' reactions than to Lady Merchant's words. "Oh, yes, of course. I'd be happy to take you both."

Jess looked on the verge of protesting, but Emily quickly turned back towards Katherine, saying, "It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Reilly. Perhaps we shall see you about the hotel later. Shall you be staying here long?"

"I am not certain-I'm afraid it depends upon the judge," Katherine stated matter-of-factly, but it clearly came as a surprise to Jess.

"Judge?!" the girl asked, clearly assuming something sordid.

But Katherine nonchalantly shrugged her shoulders. "It is nothing. Merely a business matter. Frankly I am surprised it has dragged on this long, as there's simply no money."

The statement seemed honest enough, based upon what Miss Marple had learnt from her investigations, yet something in her statement rang false, as if it were rehearsed, as if she were spouting lines that she was meant to say.

Jess seemed on the verge of questioning Katherine further, but Miss Marple knew she herself was liable to get more out of the woman, especially if left alone with her. Turning to the Superintendent, she stated pointedly, "I shall expect a call from you later, Inspector."

"Yes, I shall ring you." S.I. Harper returned Miss Marple's look, obviously understanding her subtext, before turning to the two girls, saying, "We should be going, before it gets too late."

Jess looked disappointed at not being allowed to interrogate Katherine further, but she and Emily quickly said their goodbyes and left with the Inspector.

Once they were gone, Miss Marple turned back towards Katherine, topping up the woman's teacup before casually asking, "You spoke of 'no money'-you meant, of course, your father's failed business?"

A quick look of panic crossed the woman's face, as if she was worried she had said something she shouldn't, before she seemed to remember their earlier conversation. "Oh. Yes, exactly," Katherine confirmed. "It's all to do with this bankruptcy business, you see. The investors are trying to get back their money, but as they say, you can't get blood from a stone." She gave a shrug and smiled, as if there were nothing more to be done.

But once again Miss Marple had noticed the way Katherine's words had been said almost unconsciously, as if they had been learnt by rote so she need not give any thought to them. Was this because it was simply too painful to dwell upon her father's death and the failed business? Or was she trying to cover something up and had simply memorised something safe to say.

Miss Marple was about to ask Katherine another question when suddenly a movement in the corridor caught her eye. She watched as Abby hurried down the stairs, clad in a raincoat and hat and looking extremely anxious. As the blonde girl passed the sitting area, quickly heading for the front door, Miss Marple called out to her. "Mrs. Temple? Is everything all right?"

The girl jumped at the sound of her name. "What?" she asked before she realised what had been said. "Oh, yes, I'm...everything's fine."

But Miss Marple could tell that something was bothering her, for she had seen that same look on the blonde's face before. "Did you...did you find someone to take care of your dog whilst you're away?" she inquired, wondering if that were her worry.

"Dog?" she asked blankly, as if she had no idea what was meant.

Miss Marple quickly clarified. "Rex, I believe?"

A look of wary recognition swept over Abby's face. "Oh, right. Rex. Yes, we...uh...he should be fine." But something in her doubtful tone made it clear she was lying, but about which part, Miss Marple couldn't be certain.

Although it was obvious the girl was headed out, Miss Marple picked up the pot of tea, asking, "Would you care to join us?"

The anxious look instantly returned to the girl's face. "I'm sorry, I really have to...I need to be somewhere."

As the girl turned and quickly headed for the door, Miss Marple called after her, "Another time, perhaps."

Abby turned to give a friendly nod before she reached for the door...and jumped as it opened by itself. Mr. Brent politely held the door for the blonde as she hurried out before entering the lobby himself, glancing about as if looking for someone. His gaze stopped when it reached the sitting area, and suddenly Katherine stood.

"Oh, is that the time?" she said in a poor attempt at a convincing lie as her eyes locked with Mr. Brent's. "I...uh...I really must be going."

"Can you not stay to finish your tea?" Miss Marple asked, knowing the answer by the look on her face...and on Mr. Brent's as he passed them, headed for the stairs.

"No. I'm... I'm sorry." She started towards the stairs herself, calling back, "Thank you for the tea. And perhaps I shall see you about the hotel?"

Miss Marple smiled. "In this weather, I shall certainly be indoors. Farewell."

Katherine gave a quick nod before scurrying down the corridor, not even making much of an effort to hide the fact that she was following after Mr. Brent.

"All finished, Miss Marple?"

The hotel clerk's voice behind her made her jump. Since the tea was mostly cold and she was now the only guest left in the lobby, she decided the tea had served its purpose. "Yes, thank you, Mr. Campbell."

She got to her feet and headed for her room. So much had happened today-so many things had been learnt-that she needed some time alone to reflect on what they all meant. A walk along the seacliffs would have been the perfect way to sort her thoughts, but with the fog having turned once again to rain, resting in her room would have to do instead.

Once inside her bedroom, she realised how tired she was. She had been up late last night due to the murder and all the comings and goings and then had been actively "investigating" all day, so she decided a quick lie-down before supper might be just the thing. She crossed to the back window and absently grabbed hold of the curtains to draw them closed but paused.

There in the rain, nearly just outside her window, stood Abby. She did not seem to be taking a walk or admiring the view or doing much of anything except simply standing and staring.

Staring intently into the room where the murder had taken place.

And despite the warmth of the hotel room, Miss Marple felt a chill run down her spine as she closed the curtains, haunted by the unnerving look on the blonde girl's face.

_..._

_to be continued_


	13. Chapter 13

_Chapter 13_

Miss Marple came down to supper early, hoping to get a good table, one where she could command a view of the entire dining area and surreptitiously watch the other diners. She was still disturbed by what she'd seen out the window. What could Abby have been looking for? Could Miss Marple's conclusion that she and her friends were unrelated to the murder been too hasty? The room had been thoroughly searched by Harper's men again this morning, but it had yielded no further clues to the murder. Yet clearly Abby was anxious about something, and Miss Marple was hoping she could learn more about the girl's fears tonight at supper.

Mr. Horbury was already in the dining area when she arrived, sitting at a table by himself. He gave her a polite nod but did not ask her to join him, a sure sign that he was hoping for another dining companion. Miss Marple merely smiled at the tall man and headed for her own table, noting with amusement his sigh of relief that she had not invited herself to join him.

Mr. Brent arrived soon afterwards, but he did not stay long. Miss Marple could not be certain whether it was the solicitor's glares or the hotel clerk's open hostility that sent him away, but after having been sat for only a minute or two, he got to his feet and headed out the front door, no doubt in search of a friendlier dining atmosphere.

Lady Merchant and her young friend were the next to arrive. Jess, who seemed to be in a perpetually cheery mood, grinned broadly the moment her eyes met Miss Marple's and raised her hand, calling out across the room, "Good evening, Miss Marple. Are you dining here, too? Perhaps you'd like to-?"

She screeched to a halt, both physically and verbally, as Emily subtlely grabbed her arm and gave her a stern look, asking in a low voice, "What are you doing?"

"Inviting Miss Marple to join us, of course."

"Jess, you cannot."

"Why not?" the girl asked, clearly not seeing any problem with it. "She seems sweet. And besides, look how lonely she seems, sitting there all by herself."

"I care not how lonely she is," Emily said matter-of-factly. "It is a question of self-preservation. If she sits with us, we shall not be able to talk openly."

Miss Marple smiled to herself-perhaps Lady Merchant was now regretting having opened up so much over tea.

Jess, on the other hand, had no regrets and, in fact, did not even seem to be aware of potential ones. "What do you mean? Of course we can talk."

"Jess, we must be careful, lest you forget we..."

Strain as she might, Miss Marple could not hear more, as Lady's Merchant's voice lowered even further.

Luckily Jess, still not sensing any danger, replied in a voice which carried. "But she's just a sweet old lady. Surely it wouldn't matter if she were to...I mean, she wouldn't...You don't think..?" She trailed off into a resigned sigh, something in Lady Merchant's pointed look finally convincing her, albeit reluctantly. "I s'pose you're right," she gave in petulantly, pulling out a chair at a nearby table and collapsing down upon it in a huff.

Lady Merchant, too, took her seat, though with much more grace than her friend. "Look, I do have some experience in this, remember? Believe me, it is best to keep our distance...no matter how nice she seems."

So the lady must now be aware that Miss Marple's friendly questioning over tea had been more that idle chitchat. It was a true shame, for now Miss Marple was even more intrigued.

But the sight of Mr. Lester upon the stairs interrupted both Miss Marple's thoughts and the conversation of the girls, for Jess, after waving to the man, turned to her friend and pointed out, "We've barely seen him about-what do you think he's been up to all day?"

"I think it would be wise not to inquire," Emily replied, causing Jess to laugh. With such an endearing smile, Miss Marple observed, it was no wonder Inspector Harper was so smitten with-

"Good evening, Miss Marple."

The unexpected voice at her side sounded extremely loud to her straining ears, causing Miss Marple to jump at the hotel clerk's sudden appearance.

"Oh, good evening, Mr. Campbell," she said, recovering quickly from her surprise.

"I didn't mean to scare you, ma'am," he apologised. "I do hope you had a pleasant afternoon. I'm sorry the weather never cleared up, but hopefully you're not too disappointed."

Miss Marple tried to hide her smile. After all, how could she tell him that the gloom had been the perfect excuse for staying indoors and gathering information. "It was not a problem," she offered truthfully. "I managed to keep myself busy."

"Glad to hear it," he nodded. "Now, for supper tonight we're offering a watercress and pea soup with bread or shepherd's pie. Which would you like?"

"The soup sounds wonderful."

"It is, if I do say so myself-it's my sister's own recipe," he said, the brotherly pride evident in his voice. "Besides, soup is always the perfect meal for rainy evenings such as this, don't you agree? And would you care for tea as well?"

"Need you ask?" Miss Marple teased, eliciting a warm smile from the hotel clerk.

"I'll be back straightaway," he said, heading towards the kitchen.

Miss Marple returned her attention to Jess' table, where Connor was just hurrying in.

"The food ready yet?" he asked as he slid into a seat. "I'm starved. Being brilliant is hard work, you know."

"If you were truly brilliant, you'd have the detector finished by now," Mr. Lester commented dryly.

"But that's what I'm talking about," Connor insisted. "You see, I've been dying to make some modifications to the basic design for some time now, but I never have any. Time, that is. But we've got ages here, yeah? So I figured that, since I have to start from scratch making this new detector anyway, I might as well do it up proper with all the mods."

Lady Merchant frowned. "So that is why it is taking you so long?"

The boy must have sensed Emily's displeasure for he quickly explained, "But don't you see? It's gonna be the best detector EVER!"

"Connor, this is NOT the time to be dawdling with newfangled doodads," Mr. Lester said. "Just get it working."

"But he has a point," Jess insisted, causing the boy to grin, pleased that at least someone was taking his side. "I totally get where he's coming from, and he's right-sometimes it's easier to make changes to something when you build it from the ground up. And since he's got to do that here anyway, why not make it better?"

"But what about Abby?" Emily asked.

Connor looked confused by the question. "What about Abby?"

"She's stuck out in the rain," Mr. Lester said, not mincing any words, "hour after hour, whilst you're in here, warm and dry and...wasting time."

"Well, she's not the only one what can take the watch, yeah?" Connor pointed out. Looking directly at the bureaucrat, he asked, "What d'you got going on? Why don't you go and spell her for a bit?"

"Absolutely not. It's bad enough you wanted me to ruin my shoes; I'm not about to ruin my suit as well by standing out in the bloody rain all evening."

"Okay, well it don't have to be you then. How 'bout you, Emily? Why don't you do it?"

Lady Merchant nodded, looking to Mr. Lester as she replied, "I could, if you would like me to."

"No! You can't have Emily!" Jess insisted, clearly upset by the mere suggestion. Turning to the boy, she practically scolded, "Lester is right-just hurry up and finish the detector, Connor."

"Oi!" he exclaimed. "I thought you was on my side."

"I am," Jess said, "but not if you're going to steal away my Watson."

Miss Marple could not help but smile at the reference, wondering if the young, pretty Sherlock was aware of just how much her reserved sidekick had accidentally given away this afternoon.

But Emily looked confused, asking, "What is a Watson?"

Mr. Lester gave an impatient sigh. "Look, it's suppertime. Is someone going to go outside and GET Abby, or is she expected to starve as well as drown?"

Lady Merchant nodded. "She deserves to come inside for some hot food-it must be getting cold out there, even in her new raincoat."

"Yeah, Connor," Jess agreed, "go tell your wife it's suppertime."

"Wife?" The boy paused for a moment before exclaiming, "Oh yeah!" reminding Miss Marple that, despite appearances, the couple probably weren't married after all. Grinning, he said, "'Kay, be right back...with my WIFE," he added with a suggestive eyebrow wiggle as he hurried towards the lobby door.

As he left, a movement on the stairs caught Miss Marple's eye, and she turned to see Katherine descending the stairs to the lobby. Her entrance was also drawing the attention of both Mr. Horbury-who eagerly smiled and gestured for her to join him-and Jess.

"There she is," the auburn-haired girl whispered excitedly to Mr. Lester.

Turning to look, he frowned and shook his head. "She doesn't look much like a killer to me."

"Not all killers have claws, you know," Jess pointed out. "Besides, it MUST be her-how else do you explain what he said?"

But if Jess elaborated further, Miss Marple did not hear, for she was too busy listening in on the couple who were just greeting each other.

"I'm so glad you could join me, Miss Reilly," Mr. Horbury said, already on his feet as she approached.

Katherine nodded, replying, "Of course. I'm pleased you offered."

"I do hope you had a pleasant afternoon," he said, pulling out her chair for her.

"A bit rainy for my taste, but yes, I..." Taking the proffered seat, she turned her back upon Miss Marple, and their conversation faded from her ears.

"Abby, you must be freezing!" Jess cried out as her friends reentered the lobby, and Miss Marple turned to see the rain dripping off the blonde's rainhat.

"Here," Connor said, helping the girl out of her wet coat and hanging it, along with her hat, upon the coatrack near the door before hurrying back to her side, certainly acting the role of dutiful husband, whether he was one or not.

Abby still looked damp and cold, so Lady Merchant jumped to her feet, offering, "Here, let me fetch you a dry jumper." Mr. Lester, however, had already removed his suit coat and was draping it over Abby's shivering shoulders as she took a seat at the table.

"Thanks," she said, drawing the jacket about her as her teeth chattered. "I'll be fine, once I get some hot food in me."

"And then it's to bed with you, missy," Connor insisted.

"But what about-?" Abby began to protest, but the others wouldn't let her continue.

"You cannot stay out there all night," Emily stated.

Jess nodded. "Yeah, we can't possibly keep a vigil 24/7-we simply haven't the personnel."

"Besides," Connor added soothingly, "it don't really matter, because if it does come back, we can always just catch it in the morning, yeah?"

The blonde ooked doubtful, but Jess added pointedly, "And hopefully the detector will be done by then anyway."

"Alright, alright," Connor said, throwing up his hands in submission. "I'll get right on it after dinner, so you can stop with the harrassing, yeah?"

But Miss Marple was still intrigued by his earlier comment. Catch what? she wondered. A ride of some sort?

"Besides, Abby," Mr. Lester commented, "I doubt I'll be able to get hazard pay for everyone as it is, so you can simply forget about overtime. You might as well get a good night's sleep."

Connor nodded, his true concern for his wife evident as he put his arm about her. "It'll be fine, I promise. We'll get home soon. But for now, let's just get you some warm soup and-"

"Here you go," the hotel clerk said as he suddenly set down a steaming hot bowl of soup in front of Miss Marple.

A part of her wanted to send it over to the next table, for Abby was still shivering, despite Connor holding her close. But it simply wouldn't do to let the others know she had been listening in, especially since Lady Merchant already seemed to suspect as much. Therefore Miss Marple merely smiled up at Mr. Campbell, saying, "It looks absolutely delicious," as she reached for her spoon, silently hoping that the blonde girl would get served as quickly as she had.

...

_to be continued_


	14. Chapter 14

_Chapter 14_

Miss Marple had a restless night, tossing and turning as her mind continued to churn. Supper last night had convinced her that she now had not one but two mysteries to solve. Obviously there was the question of the murder, though she was finding the intrigue of Jess and her friends to be more compelling at present-yet both needed to be investigated. It was not that Miss Marple abhorred a challenge, but she was, after all, meant to be on holiday.

So the sooner she solved the mysteries, the sooner she could relax and enjoy herself.

At six she finally allowed herself to get out of bed, though she took her time getting ready. Breakfast wouldn't be served till seven, and she was certain Harper would not be at the station till after eight, which meant she was in no hurry. After dressing, she opened the curtains, causing her mind to flash on the petite blonde girl who'd been standing in the rain yesterday. Miss Marple recalled Abby's friends discussing her "vigil" and again wondered what the girl could have been watching for in the locked and secured crime scene.

Inspector Harper had asked Miss Marple to come down to the station this morning to give her opinion on the two suspects before he set them free. At the time she had agreed to it, she had merely been being polite, happy to lend a hand to the handsome young detective. But now Miss Marple was eagerly awaiting the upcoming interrogation for she had questions of her own to ask. She ate her tea and toast faster than was probably advisable before asking the hotel clerk to ring her a cab to the station. Although she knew she would not be able to get in to see the suspects until the Superintendent arrived, she was eager to talk to the other constables, to get their impressions of the two men.

And their impressions were exactly as she had imagined. Except for P.C. Bourke, who seemed to hold a grudge against her for having gotten him in trouble and thus refused to speak with her, all the other constables told Miss Marple that "something seemed off" about the two men. When asked to elaborate, most said something vague, unable to give any examples as to what exactly was meant by saying the suspects seemed "off". P.C. Fisher, however, was a fount of useful specifics.

"If'n you remember, ma'am, I was the one what drove them to the station that night, and I listened in to what they was saying."

Miss Marple shook her head with a smile. "Someday criminals will learn not to talk in the back seat of police vehicles, and then your jobs will become infinitely harder."

Fisher gave a hearty laugh. "You got that right, ma'am. But this weren't like no backseat conversation I've heard before."

Miss Marple was intrigued. "In what way?"

"Well, mostly crooks talk about what lies to say-want to get their stories straight afore they get grilled, I guess-or talk about the crime itself. You know, like what went wrong, blaming each other and the like. But not these two. They weren't discussing nothing that made sense."

"So what were they discussing?" Miss Marple prompted.

"Well, for one thing, they kept going on about 'the rules'."

"What 'rules'?" she asked, as if the phrase tickled something in her memory.

The constable, however, shrugged. "Don't rightly know. The taller man-the 'Captain', 'cording to his ID-kept yelling at the Mick-sorry ma'am, I meant the Irishman," he quickly corrected, looking a bit chagrinned for having used such slang in her presence, before continuing, "telling him this was exactly why they had rules in place, as this was just the sort of thing what could happen."

"WHAT could happen?" Miss Marple interrupted, eager for clarification. "The murder? Or getting caught?"

But Fisher shrugged. "Not sure. All I know is that all the Captain's yelling don't seem to have had much effect on the Irishman. He weren't saying much till he finally commented something 'bout, 'You can save the lecture-I'm sure Emily will give me the same one later.'"

At the sound of the lady's name, the phrase finally clicked in her head. Miss Marple had heard Emily comment something about 'having rules for a reason' when she and Jess had first arrived, so clearly the two men were not merely referring to long-established military regulations.

And clearly Matt was the leader of whatever they were up to, since he seemed more concerned about Lady Merchant's future reprimand than "the Captain's" present one. Perhaps the couple were engaged after all.

Fisher, unaware of these thoughts, had continued on with his tale and was apparently talking about "the others and how he wouldn't be surprised, as Bess had never been much for rules."

"Jess," Miss Marple automatically corrected.

The constable gave her a confused look before suddenly the light dawned. "Oh, of course! Miss Parker!" He gave a chuckle before adding to himself, "The Captain sure called that one-that girl don't pay ANY rules no mind...though with that smile, she can easily get away with it, yeah?" The constable looked pointedly at Miss Marple at this last, and she replied with an understanding nod-though Fisher was not about to rat out his superior by name, Miss Marple was well aware that Jess had Harper wrapped around her little finger and could only imagine what all the girl had been getting away with here at the station.

"Not that I think she's involved in this here murder," the constable quickly went on, "though I wouldn't be surprised if her friend were. That lady's more guarded than the Jerries we captured during the war-makes you wonder what secrets she's keeping, yeah?"

Miss Marple could not help but smile, thinking of what all she had gotten out of Lady Merchant over tea.

"Well, thank you for speaking with me," Miss Marple gratefully acknowledged. "It has been quite informative."

"Oh, but I ain't told you the oddest part," Fisher said. "So after the two was done discussing the rest of 'their team' joining them, the Captain lowers his voice further and asks, 'So where do you think we are?'"

"That IS odd," Miss Marple concurred. Even if the team had been travelling since dusk, they should have had some idea of how far they had come.

"It gets odder," the constable said, his own voice growing more quiet as he leant in to confide, "You know what the Irishman replied?"

Miss Marple could feel her own excitement growing as she prompted breathlessly, "What?"

"He said, 'I'm guessing it's shortly after the second World War.'"

Miss Marple stared. "Heavens! What on earth do you think he meant by that?" Were they soldiers after all, POWs who had just been released and weren't even aware that it had been nearly four years since V-E Day? But no, that didn't explain the girls. In fact, Emily hadn't even seemed to know about the War. But then Miss Marple flashed upon the lady reading aloud the lobby newspaper's location-and date! Could they all have been away from civilisation so long that they'd lost track of time? It seemed unlikely-after all, their clothes, whilst odd and out of fashion, weren't worn or tattered. And based on Mr. Lester's presence, the British government was somehow involved in all this, so what did it all mean?

But before she could discuss any of these thoughts with the constable, a familiar voice sounded behind her.

"Why Miss Marple," the Superintendent greeted as he entered the station. "I didn't mean for you to ruin your pleasant Sunday by getting up so early."

"I was already awake and thought I would come down. I have been having a most enlightening conversation with P.C. Fisher here," she said, gesturing to the officer, who suddenly bowed his head, looking a bit sheepish.

And she soon learnt why.

"Aren't you meant to be out on patrol, Fisher?" Harper asked rather sternly.

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. Right away, sir." And the constable scurried off without so much as a "by your leave".

Miss Marple turned back to Harper, requesting, "Don't be too hard on him. He's quite observant, you know-will no doubt make a brilliant detective one day."

Harper shrugged. "Perhaps. But I'm more concerned with today at present." He then smiled, asking, "So, are you ready to go see our suspects?"

"Don't forget, dear, I saw them once already." Miss Marple smiled, adding, "Though I am definitely looking forward to speaking with them."

"Well, don't get your hopes up, as you're not likely to get much out of them," Harper warned as he led Miss Marple further into the station.

Thinking of all she now wanted to ask, she smiled to herself. "We'll just see about that."

...

_to be continued_


	15. Chapter 15

_Chapter 15_

Inspector Harper took her in to see "the Captain" first. The moment she entered the room, the suspect jumped to his feet, acknowledging her with a polite nod. His gesture brought three things to Miss Marple's attention. One: whether his military credentials were real or not, it was obvious that the man had had proper manners drilled into him at an early age. Two: despite his wrinkled suit and mussed hair, the man was incredibly good looking-it was no wonder young Jess blushed when she thought of him! And three: the man was quite tall.

This last observation wouldn't have been so obvious (since most men were much taller than Miss Marple) had it not been Harper's reaction. The moment the suspect stood, the Inspector seemed to stand straighter, as if silently competing with the man. Unfortunately for him, the suspect seemed to have him beat, though it was close-there was nary a half-inch difference between their heights. However, it was clear this difference rankled Harper, and Miss Marple quickly took a seat so that both men may sit as well.

"Good morning," Miss Marple greeted cheerily.

The suspect rolled his eyes as he sat back in his chair, stubbornly crossing his arms in front of him. "Don't see what's so good about it," he grumbled.

Inspector Harper wasted no time, launching immediately into questions about the other night. The suspect rarely answered with anything more than a hostile glare, and it was clear they were getting nowhere. Miss Marple finally gave Harper a meaningful look, and he nodded in acknowledgement.

"We will probably be releasing you later this morning," the Inspector said, "but that does not mean we are finished with you. You and your friend will not be allowed to leave town until all this is sorted, understand?"

The suspect gave a sigh, mumbling under his breath, "Really not an issue."

Miss Marple gave him an inquiring look, wondering what he meant by his words, but the Captain merely met her gaze with an intent stare of his own.

Harper stood and, before Miss Marple had even begun to rise, the suspect was on his feet, ever the proper gentleman, even in this setting. Miss Marple tried to hide her amused smile as she noticed the Inspector once again pulling himself up to his full height as they turned to leave the cell.

And while the interview with the Captain had been interesting, Miss Marple was looking more forward to their next subject.

"Good morning, Mr. Anderson," Miss Marple greeted politely.

Unlike his companion, Mr. Anderson stayed seated, although he gave an acknowledging nod back. She noticed, however, no change in his expression, not even so much as a crinkle in his forehead.

"We'd like to ask you some more questions about the other night," Harper informed him, and again the man nodded, his face as placid as a mountain lake on a windless day.

Now sat face to face with the man, Miss Marple took a moment to study his features. He was quite attractive as well, his dark blond stubble from several days of not shaving giving him an almost rugged appearance. But what she noticed most were his eyes. Not just their colour, which were an alluring pale blue, but the way they seemed to bore into one as if peering into one's very soul while managing to give nothing away themselves.

And they continued to give nothing away as Harper once again launched into the same series of questions he'd just asked Captain Becker...and no doubt had asked Mr. Anderson several times before: Why was he there? How did he know the victim? What happened to the gun? With each question, the man's response was the same: his words-when he bothered to say anything-were far from edifying, and his face never changed expression.

Perhaps he had been a P.O.W., Miss Marple thought. Or a spy. He certainly had experience in keeping his cool-he didn't even flinch when Harper raised his voice and got in his face, as if the Inspector wasn't even coming anywhere close to his defences.

But Miss Marple guessed where the chink in the man's armour lay, and she was determined to get through it.

"Inspector," she began warmly after Mr. Anderson had made it clear he had no intention of answering Harper's latest question, "perhaps Mr. Anderson would be more amenable to supplying answers if this cell weren't so chilly." She pulled her cardigan tighter about her. "Could one of your men be called upon to bring us a spot of tea?" Miss Marple then gave a slight "Oh", as if suddenly remembering something, and turned to the prisoner to exclaim, "But that's right-you're more of a coffee drinker, aren't you? Or so your fiancee says."

She said this last casually, as if it meant nothing, but she kept her gaze firmly upon the man as she spoke, hoping for some response.

And there it was! The first actual emotion she'd seen from the man today. First his eyes clouded momentarily with confusion, thus giving further confirmation that the engagement was fabricated.

But Mr. Anderson was obviously an intelligent man, and realisation soon flashed in his baby blues, followed immediately by something else. Was that guilt she was reading? If so, what was the cause? Might he feel guilty that he had not yet taken that next step in his courtship, for it was eminently clear, despite his attempts at concealing his feelings, that he truly loved the young lady. Thinking of Lady Merchant's own reserved nature, Miss Marple reflected that the two were rather suited for one another, and perhaps this little sojourn was just what was needed to bring them together once and for all.

Though not now. Mr. Anderson's eyes had returned to their task of shielding his feelings, and he replied placidly, "Ah, you must be the woman with whom Emily had tea yesterday." He gave Miss Marple a pointed look, his eyes expressing to her that, whilst she may have gotten her foot in the door, he wasn't going to allow her in any further.

But it was clear she'd upset him. And thus off-balance, she hoped to get even more out of him.

Despite the fact that Harper seemed unaware of anything that had just transpired.

"Coffee, tea-what's it matter?" the Inspector asked impatiently. "I doubt he's going to answer any of our questions regardless."

"Then for me, dear?" Miss Marple inquired with a polite smile, and Harper stood and hollered down the corridor to one of his men.

As he retook his seat, Miss Marple turned back to the prisoner, asking, "So tell us, Mr. Anderson, how did you come to be here?"

A wry smile crossed Mr. Anderson's lips as he answered, "The constable brought me in."

Harper was not amused. "Not helpful," he growled impatiently.

Miss Marple took the opportunity to clarify, "I don't mean here at the station; how did you come to be here in Glenshire?"

Mr. Anderson didn't bat an eye; Harper, on the other hand, whirled around, giving her a look of utter confusion. She thus concluded that, despite his superior detective skills, the Inspector wasn't much of a poker player.

And she didn't want him giving away this next hand, so she turned to him, suggesting, "Perhaps you'd best go see what's taking so long with that tea."

The Superindentent heaved a sigh as he stood. "You'll be okay?" he inquired of her, nodding ever so slighting to the prisoner. When she gave Harper a smile of dismissal, he continued, "I'll just be a minute," before dashing out.

Once he was gone, Miss Marple turned back towards Mr. Anderson. "I take it you travelled here with your fiancee and her young friend?" she inquired in her friendliest voice. "The Temples, too, I suppose?"

And there it was again-that momentary look of confusion, followed almost immediately by realisation-yet another clue that perhaps the young couple weren't married.

Miss Marple went on. "I take it Mr. Lester is none too pleased with this little sojourn?"

Mr. Anderson shrugged. "Lester's often not pleased," he offered wryly, causing Miss Marple to laugh.

"Yes, from what I've seen of him about the hotel, I believe you're right," she conceded before returning to her earlier line of questioning. The Captain's comment about not leaving town was still haunting her, and she wanted to get to the bottom of it. "So how did you all travel here? By car? Train? Aeroplane?" she added in an attempt at humour, hoping to put him at ease before she went in for the kill.

And whilst he acknowledged her joke with a slight smile, his eyes remained unchanged.

"I'm sorry for all the questions, Mr. Anderson," she went on with an earnest smile, "but I'm just a bit confused is all. You see, all of the cars at the hotel have been accounted for, and not one, it seems, belongs to your party. Similarly, no cab company has a record of your travels, and surely your fiancee did not hike here in the rain in that frock. So unless you can explain to me how you managed to magically ascend the seacliffs, I'm simply at a loss as to how you happened to appear at the hotel on the night of the murder."

Of course, Miss Marple had no knowledge as to whether Harper had actually investigated such things, but it didn't matter, for Mr. Anderson had taken the bait. His facial expression didn't change, but she read all she needed to in his pale blue eyes. It was an emotion she had not yet seen on him, not even when he'd been discovered with the dead man in his arms.

Fear!

So how HAD they gotten here? And why was Mr. Anderson so frightened that she might figure it out?

But before she could formulate a good follow-up question, Harper charged back into the cell.

"I had no idea how late it was. I'm afraid, Miss Marple, that I must bring this interview to a close."

Miss Marple turned and stared at the detective, wondering what could be so pressing on a Sunday morning.

As she rose, she heard him say to the prisoner, "As I told your companion, I'll be releasing you both later today. But you will not be allowed to leave town-do you understand?"

Miss Marple looked intently at the Irishman for his reply, but his stoic demeanor had returned and he merely nodded, acknowledging with a simple, "I understand."

Miss Marple desperately wanted to stay, to find out more about the secrets he and his friends were hiding, but it wouldn't be appropriate. Besides, she was naturally curious as to what Harper was up to, especially as he had offered her a lift back to the hotel.

"So where are you off to in such a hurry?" she asked as they left the station together.

"Church."

Miss Marple couldn't help but laugh. "Church? You, Inspector? You always struck me as more of a Christmas-and-Easter sort."

And while he didn't look offended, there was something in his look that struck her as odd.

But his reply clarified everything for her. "Uh...well, Miss Parker has asked me to accompany her to worship this morning."

So THAT explained it!

...

_to be continued_


	16. Chapter 16

_Chapter 16_

Jess was eagerly awaiting the Inspector in the lobby when they arrived. She was clad in a "new" red polka dot frock that was a few years out-of-date-obviously one of Abby's jumble sale purchases-and wore a thin white cardigan over her shoulders. And once again she had on her red hat, a fact with which Lady Merchant did not look particularly pleased.

The Inspector, on the other hand, was quite enjoying the view. "Are you certain we need to go to church, Miss Parker? You already look like an angel."

Emily, who was sat in a comfy chair, a tea tray by her side, heaved an exasperated sigh, but Jess merely giggled and blushed at the compliment.

"Shall we go then?" Harper continued, offering his arm.

"Absolutely," Jess said.

But as she slipped her arm in his, he frowned down at her. "Won't you be cold?"

"That is what I said," commented Lady Merchant as she lovingly grasped her cup of hot tea.

"I'll be fine," Jess said, snuggling against Harper's shoulder, and he quickly dropped the subject.

"Enjoy yourselves," Emily said as she took a sip.

Jess turned back towards her friend, asking, "Are you certain you wouldn't you like to join us, Emily?"

Like Miss Marple, the lady must have noticed the look of surprise and disappointment on Inspector Harper's face for she quickly replied, "No, you two go. I shall be fine here."

"You sure?"

"Yes, Jess. Just go."

Harper gave a not-so-subtle sigh of relief, and he and Jess set out into the morning fog.

Once they were out the door, Miss Marple approached Emily. "Might I join you, Lady Merchant?"

The girl bristled once again at the title and politely requested, "Please. Simply call me Emily."

Miss Marple nodded. And whilst the girl had not actually invited her to sit, Miss Marple took a seat regardless. Emily grabbed the tea pot from the tray and poured a second cup.

"Milk?" she asked.

Miss Marple nodded. "And sugar-one lump, please."

Once the cup and saucer were in her hands, she took a sip, her mind in a whirl. After her conversation with the lady's non-fiance, she had many questions she wanted to ask, but where to begin? She knew, from last night's overheard conversation, that Emily would now be much more wary of exposing anything. Of course, Mr. Anderson had barely uttered a word, yet Miss Marple had found out far more from him than the Captain this morning. Clearly, betrothed or not, the two were each other's weak spot, and she hoped to get in that way once again.

"So," Miss Marple began, "how long have you and Mr. Anderson...?"

Before she could finish, Emily mumbled softly under her breath, "Here she comes."

Thinking she must be speaking of her blonde friend, Miss Marple glanced about and was surprised to see instead Katherine descending the stairs. The woman clearly had more sense than Jess for she was adorned in a proper raincoat, although she, too, wore a large red hat.

Miss Marple wondered where she might be off to on such a chilly Sunday morning, but she didn't have to wonder for long. Mr. Horbury, who had been quietly perched in the window seat, jumped to his feet and hurried to meet her.

"You look lovely, as always, Miss Reilly," he gushed. "Shall we go?"

"Thank you," she said with a smile as she took his arm, and the two walked through the lobby and out the front door.

Once they were gone, Miss Marple turned back to Lady Merchant. "Nice couple," she offered.

Evidently Emily did not think so. "She is using him."

Miss Marple frowned. "In what way?" She knew Jess was suspicious of Katherine, but it was clear Emily also did not have high regard for the woman.

But Lady Merchant merely shrugged and took a long sip of her tea, effectively avoiding answering the question.

Now Miss Marple was torn. Should she continue on this new topic and get Emily's thoughts on the murder investigation, or should she return to her other line of inquiry?

But the lady did not look in a talkative mood, as she was clearly enjoying the calm left by Jess' absence, so Miss Marple decided to simply sit at present. Perhaps, once they both had some tea in them, they would be relaxed enough to have a proper conversation.

And then the interrogating could begin.

The two drank their tea in relative silence, both obviously enjoying a bit of quietude. So far, this was hardly what Miss Marple would call a holiday, though a part of her found it amusing to be caught up once again in a murder investigation. Her nephew would never believe that she had stumbled upon yet another mystery.

Make that TWO mysteries.

Miss Marple was finding her interest in the murder investigation starting to wane as she wondered about Lady Merchant and her friends. Besides their seeming kindness, they were all harbouring secrets, and Miss Marple was determined to root them out, one way or another.

So as Emily poured out the last of the tea, the leaves filling the strainer as she tried to get every last drop out of the pot, Miss Marple decided it was time to get back to business.

"So is your friend quite devout?" Miss Marple asked, hoping to break the ice; after all, one did not often attend a strange church when away on holiday.

Emily raised an eyebrow, however, as if the question had been a ridiculous one. "Perhaps single-minded would be a more appropriate term."

Miss Marple was not sure what was meant by her simple statement and was about to inquire further when the front door to the lobby suddenly opened. Turning to look, she saw the two men she had interviewed this morning entering the hotel.

"Matt!" Emily exclaimed, clearly as surprised as Miss Marple to see the two new arrivals. She leapt to her feet and hurried over to them, stating more than asking, "They let you out."

"Yeah," Matt replied with an understated nod. "There was not enough evidence to continue to hold us."

"That is what I told the others, but they do fret," she said, shooting a quick look at Captain Becker to imply exactly who was doing the majority of the fretting.

And while their conversation was staid-in fact, Matt's facial expression had not much changed from this morning-there was no mistaking the twinkle in his eye or the radiant smile on Emily's face. The two were clearly in love and pleased to be safely together once more.

The Captain, on the other hand, looked anything but happy as he peered anxiously about the lobby. "Where is...are the others?"

Emily either did not catch his self-correction or rather chose not to acknowledge what it implied for she answered, "Abby is on watch, Connor is off working on-"

"Where's Jess?" he interrupted impatiently-it was clear the girl's whereabouts were his only interest at present.

It was also clear that the tall man was often grumpy for Lady Merchant did not even bat an eye at his harsh tone. "She is off sleuthing," she replied matter-of-factly. "But do not worry," she quickly went on, obviously having sensed his sudden concern. "She is in safe hands and should be back soon."

Sleuthing! So that explained it! Jess must have overheard Katherine discussing plans to attend church and decided to follow along to spy on her.

But poor Harper! Miss Marple wondered if he was yet aware that his romantic outing was nothing more than a fact-finding mission. Of course, he did not seem to be aware of much when he was around Jess, so perhaps no harm would be done to his ego.

"Come," Emily said, grabbing Matt's hand and leading him back towards the sitting area, "let us get you some tea."

As they approached, the sight of Miss Marple must have reminded Lady Merchant that introductions were in order. "Oh, Miss Marple, I do not believe you have met Matt Anderson." She turned and gave him a pointed look as she finished with, "My fiance."

Of course, the look was unnecessary, for he had already dealt with his surprise back at the gaol, and he gave Miss Marple a polite nod of greeting.

Unfortunately the look did nothing to stop the Captain, who, like Inspector Harper, was obviously appalling at poker.

"Your WHAT?" he exclaimed, staring back and forth between his two friends. "Since when?"

If nothing else, the identical looks of displeasure on Matt's and Emily's faces made it clear the two of them truly belonged together.

Mr. Anderson nonchalantly elbowed his friend, saying under his breath, "I'll explain later, yeah?"

Lady Merchant quickly went on. "And this is Captain Hilary Becker," she stated calmly, as if the man had not just blown their cover. Something about the introduction, however, seemed to rankle the man for he shot a deadly glare at Emily.

Miss Marple decided to try and help them out. "Yes, we have already met."

Now it was the lady's turn to look surprised. "You have?"

"She interviewed us this morning, with the Inspector," Matt explained, this time giving her a pointed look.

Their silent conversation might have gone on longer had Captain Becker not asked impatiently, "Aren't there clean clothes we can change into?"

"Oh yes, and you should probably register for a room," Emily said, abandoning the idea of tea, perhaps having remembered that there was none left in the pot to offer them. "Come with me," she said, starting to lead them towards the front desk. "Let us get the two of you checked in and settled and then we can think about getting you clean clothes and hot food."

But before they had gotten very far, the front door was roughly slammed open, causing them to turn to see what all the commotion was about.

There, just inside the door, stood Mr. Brent, looking upset...and holding a gun.

...

_to be continued_


	17. Chapter 17

_Chapter 17_

It only took a split second for everyone to react. But much to Miss Marple's amazement, the threesome with whom she'd been conversing did not hide or run away, as she would have expected from most when faced with a gun; instead, all three charged across the lobby directly at Mr. Brent.

His legs being the longest, Captain Becker reached the man first and, despite Mr. Anderson's frantic call of "Becker, don't!" he grabbed the wet pistol and immediately started rendering it safe, removing the magazine and checking the chamber to ensure that the weapon could no longer be fired.

Of course, he was also ensuring something else.

"Now your fingerprints are all over it," Matt commented as he, too, reached Mr. Brent's side, clearly annoyed that the solder had not listened.

"Meaning the Inspector shall now have evidence to take you back in," Emily stated matter-of-factly.

"So what was I to do?" the Captain snapped back defensively. "Keep the gun loaded and risk everyone's safety? I'm still head of security, even in this godforsaken place."

Yet all this bickering was barely noticed by Miss Marple, for she was too busy scolding herself for having spent such little time investigating Mr. Brent. Now that she thought about it, he seemed to be the perfect suspect. The murder had occurred in his hotel room and the victim had been none other than his business partner. True, Mr. Brent had seemed quite surprised and upset at the discovery of the body, but Miss Marple knew, more than most, that emotions could be fabricated and true feelings hidden. Under ordinary circumstances, Mr. Brent would have been just the sort of charactor that Miss Marple would have pursued, questioning his whereabouts, his motives, even his loyalties. Instead, she had yet to speak to the man, although at least she knew a bit of his situation from talking to others. He co-owned a business with the victim, a business that had invested poorly and was now bankrupt-she knew men who had killed their partners for far less.

If only Miss Marple had not been so distracted by Jess and the others, caught up in their little mystery, she might have tracked down the gun to Mr. Brent's possession long before it had come to this.

Although he had not seemed particularly threatening, even whilst wielding the gun, and now he stood almost cowering in the doorway, protesting, "I wasn't going to shoot it, I swear. It's not even mine."

And Miss Marple somehow sensed he was telling the truth.

"Where did you get it from?" she asked, placing a calming hand upon his shoulder.

"I...I found it," he stammered nervously.

"Yeah, right," the Captain grumbled, clearly not believing him.

Mr. Anderson, on the other hand, seemed to think there might be some truth in it for he turned to his colleague, pointing out, "Maybe he did. Just look at the weapon, Becker-it's starting to rust, yeah?"

"As if it had been out in the rain and the sea spray for a day or two," Emily pointed out.

Miss Marple had noticed the same and turned back to Mr. Brent, asking, "Where did you find it?"

"Outside," Mr. Brent said, gesturing towards the door behind him, "along the sea cliffs."

In contrast to the Captain's perpetually harsh tones, Matt turned to the man and calmly stated, "Show us," his calm voice obviously belying his true interest. Mr. Brent, however, must have understood the request to be the order that it was for he immediately turned and led the others out of the hotel.

The morning fog had mostly lifted, leaving behind a misting rain, and Miss Marple's first instinct was to go back inside for her raincoat. However, she was eager to see where the gun had been found, for it might just hold the key as to whose it was.

As they turned right outside the door, a voice was suddenly heard behind them.

"Hey, what's up?" Abby asked, running up to them, her raincoat and hat dripping, indicating she'd been stood out in the rain for some time. Clearly her husband had not yet finished working on the detector, for otherwise she would not need to be still on the "watch" this morning.

"Mr. Brent has found a gun," Lady Merchant explained to her friend as they all followed the man diagonally across the green lawn.

"Mr. Brent?" the blonde asked.

"The partner," Emily said simply, and it was clear that she and Jess had been keeping their friends apprised of their investigations.

As they reached the end of the lawn and began up a slight incline, Miss Marple realised she had learnt the layout of neither the hotel grounds themselves nor the surrounding area since her arrival. Thanks to the rain-and her investigations-she had not bothered to take in the view, and she was thus surpised when they came over a ridge and suddenly there was the ocean, extending out, far below them, towards the horizon.

"Beautiful," Lady Merchant gasped at the view.

The Captain, however, was unimpressed. In fact, the tension in his body made it clear that he was taking far more notice of the isolated nature of the place, which made it a perfect spot for an ambush. "So where was it?" he barked impatiently.

"Down there," Mr. Brent said, pointing over the edge of the tall cliff.

Lady Merchant took a step forward to look, but Mr. Anderson automatically put out a protective hand to stop her, clearly not wanting her to get too close to the edge.

"At the bottom of the cliff?" Captain Becker asked with much disdain. "Nice try."

"No," Mr. Brent insisted, taking a step towards the cliff edge himself, causing everyone to gasp nervously. But he seemed unconcerned for his own safety, calmly explaining, "There's a ledge, not six feet down. You can't see it from where you are standing, but it's right there."

The Captain took a wary step forward, and his surprise at what he saw was evident in his eyebrows. Miss Marple and the others immediately joined him at the edge, looking down to see a rocky projection exactly as Mr. Brent had described. Some loose rocks and smaller stones now lay upon the two-foot-wide outcropping, no doubt dislodged from when Mr. Brent had climbed down to retrieve the weapon.

"Why was the gun down there?" Abby wondered aloud.

"It seems obvious, does it not?" Lady Merchant stated, clearly having come to the same conclusion as Miss Marple.

Mr. Anderson, too, seemed to be on the same page. "The murderer tossed it over the cliff, wanting to get rid of the evidence."

"Not knowing the ledge was present," the blonde girl nodded, finally catching on, "and thus not knowing the gun never disappeared into the surf down below."

There was no doubt in Miss Marple's mind that this was precisely what had happened, which meant that this gun was most definitely the one that had been used in the crime.

"Please hand over the gun to me," Miss Marple stated calmly but firmly, pulling her handkerchief out of her bag and extending it towards Captain Becker. "I shall hand it over to Inspector Harper, explaining the circumstances from whence it came...and the reasons for your fingerprints upon it."

The Captain shot Mr. Anderson a look, and the Irishman responded with a slight nod of his head. The tall soldier then reluctantly handed the pistol and magazine over to Miss Marple, who carefully wrapped them in her handkerchief and tucked them away inside her handbag.

"No one else is to be told what we have discovered here," she went on firmly. "No one. Do you understand?" She looked long and hard at Mr. Brent, who nervously assented with a nod, before turning the same commanding look on the others. She did not so much care if Jess or their other companions found out, for Miss Marple was certain that they were not involved in the murder itself, but she did not want word accidentally getting out to the actual murder suspects. It would not do to have the killer know the gun had been discovered, for then he-or she-might grow desperate.

And desperate people were known to do desperate things.

"Come," Miss Marple said. "Let us go back inside and dry off. There is nothing more for us to see out here at this time, and no doubt the police will want the area as undisturbed as possible when they perform their search for additional clues."

She said this last whilst watching Mr. Brent, curious to see if she read any worry on his part, if his story about merely finding the gun upon the invisible ledge would not hold weight when furthered examined. However, she saw nothing to suggest he showed any concern of a lie being uncovered. Instead, he turned around and quickly headed back towards the hotel ahead of the others, looking as if he'd be pleased to get inside out of the rain.

The remaining group were halfway across the lawn when a familiar car pulled up in front of the hotel. After bringing the car to a stop, Inspector Harper leapt out of the driver seat and hurried around to open the passenger door, offering a gentlemanly hand to his passenger.

As Jess was helped from the car, Captain Becker shot an angry look towards Lady Merchant. "You didn't say she was sleuthing with HIM," he said, his jealousy evident in the way he spat out the final word.

The lady merely shrugged, unaffected by the Captain's harsh tone as she replied calmly, "I told you she was in safe hands."

"Wait-sleuthing?" Abby asked, confused. "I thought she was going to church-isn't that why she insisted on wearing that ridiculous hat?"

Lady Merchant gave a sigh, seemingly annoyed that the others were not keeping up. "Yes, I agree, the hat is ridiculous. And yes, she went with Inspector Harper to church, but only to spy on Katherine."

"Katherine?!" Mr. Anderson asked, clearly astonished by the uttering of the name.

"You found Katherine?!" Captain Becker asked, similarly as surprised.

But any further explanation was interrupted by a now familiar voice squealing excitedly across the lawn.

"Becker!"

_..._

_to be continued_


	18. Chapter 18

_Chapter 18_

Jess rushed across the wet lawn and threw her arms about the Captain in an excited embrace, knocking her large red hat askew in her eagerness . Their embrace, however, was over in an instant as she quickly let go and stepped back, as if she had somehow overstepped her bounds, her cheeks glowing crimson as she attempted to nonchalantly adjust her hat.

"They let you out," she said, clearly unable to think of anything more to state than the obvious. Then, suddenly remembering the other recently incarcerated man, she turned to Mr. Anderson, asking, "Are you both okay?"

Of course, these subtleties in the girl's actions, which spoke volumes to Miss Marple, were lost on Inspector Harper as he glumly approached, an umbrella absently held up, obviously intended for Jess and now without purpose. He, too, missed the other greetings between the group, yet Miss Marple did not miss his attempts once again to stand tall, failing even more now that they were stood on uneven ground. Miss Marple felt some sympathy for the detective, although not as much as before, knowing now that he actually stood a chance with the pretty young girl who, by her own reactions, had made it clear that she and the taller man were not yet romantically involved.

Not that they both weren't attracted to each other, for his jealousy was evident the moment Jess turned her attention back to the Inspector, giving him a playful swat as she scolded, "You might've told me you were releasing them this morning instead of letting me fret throughout the entire service."

"Well...I...," Harper stammered.

"We should continue this discussion inside," Lady Merchant suggested, gesturing towards the drizzling clouds overhead, "where it is warm and dry."

"Yes," Miss Marple concurred. "We may talk over a hot meal."

"Oh, and I've so much to tell," Jess said as she started inside, the two gentleman clambering for her affections on either side. Harper gallantly held the umbrella over her head, and Miss Marple was certain the occasional strikes of the spokes against the Captain's head were not accidental.

Miss Marple held herself back from the threesome, amused by the ridiculous competition between the two men. She knew she must get the Inspector alone so she could hand over the gun and explain all that had happened, but it could wait until they were inside.

"Where's Connor?" Mr. Anderson quietly inquired behind her, and Miss Marple barely heard the blonde girl reply, "He's working on a detector."

"Abby has been keeping watch," Lady Merchant explained in a low voice, and evidently the lady's fiance merely responded with a nod for Miss Marple heard no more until they were inside.

As Inspector Harper folded up his umbrella, Miss Marple stated quietly, "I must speak with you." He nodded and followed her to her room, where they could be certain of privacy. Once the door was locked, she handed him the gun, and he gave it a perfunctory examination, confirming that the calibre was consistent with the bullet pulled from the body. Miss Marple then proceeded to explain all that had happened in his absence, including the fact that the firearm would now be useless to fingerprint, as both Mr. Brent's and Captain Becker's prints were likely all over it.

"And you're certain it was thrown over the cliff with the intent of hiding it?" Harper asked.

Miss Marple nodded. "Its location was consistent with such a theory. The ledge could only be seen from directly atop the cliff, and the gun appeared to have been there for a day or two."

"And you don't suspect this Mr. Brent fellow of concocting such a story?"

"I'm not certain why he would. If he had committed the crime, why not simply destroy the evidence himself? And if he hadn't, why lie, when the gun could probably be used to track down whoever murdered his business partner?"

"Unless he knows the killer's identity and doesn't want him or her discovered," Harper pointed out.

Miss Marple nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, but why not then simply destroy the evidence, if he did not want the real killer found?"

The detective shrugged. "Well, for now we'll take the location of the gun as fact and the circumstances as to how and why it got there as theory."

"Brilliant," she said with a smile. "Now, we'd best be getting back to the lobby."

The two emerged from her room and descended the stairs together. During their absence, the group had moved several tables together to form a long one near the door. Miss Marple noticed that both Temples were now present as well as Mr. Lester. She also noticed that two chairs had been saved, no doubt for her and the Inspector. She smiled as Harper made a beeline for the empty spot directly next to Jess even as the Captain frowned at this unwelcome addition to their cosy party.

The hotel clerk was already bringing out food from the kitchen, and Miss Marple was pleased that she wouldn't have to wait, as she'd grown quite chilled outside. She unobtrusively took her seat at the far end of the table and immediately set to her soup, hoping the others would forget she was there and speak freely.

And for the most part they did. Abby discretely filled in her husband and the bureaucrat on what all had happened at the cliffside as Lady Merchant and her fiance had their own private chat in such low tones that Miss Marple could barely catch a word.

Hearing Jess, however, was not an issue, even though she was sat the farthest away. She was eagerly filling in the two handsome men sat on either side of her on her investigations, but it was clear that neither was paying much attention for they were too busy trying to one-up each other. Harper kept refilling her tea cup the moment she took a sip, which the Captain would immediately follow with an offer of the sugar bowl and the milk pitcher. Miss Marple couldn't help but smile as she watched this ridiculous love triangle unfold, wondering if the girl even realised she was being so fought over, caught up as she was in her own story.

Eventually a detail needed to be shared with the rest of the table for she called out, "Oh, and Emily, we were totally right about Katherine. She's-"

"Sshhh!" the lady hushed, frantically looking about the lobby to see if the woman had returned. "Keep your voice down."

"Sorry," Jess said, leaning over the table as far as she could and speaking in a loud whisper as she continued. "She's definitely not interested in Mr. Horbury and is just using him. I'm not certain for what, but clearly it's something nefarious." Her eyes seemed to sparkle with excitement at this last revelation.

Mr. Anderson turned to his fiance, asking quietly, "So who is this Katherine?" and the lady quickly explained as Jess returned to her conversation at the other end of the table. Miss Marple was still intrigued as to why they all spoke of Katherine and was trying to come up with a way to casually inquire when Jess once again broke in.

"It all makes sense," the girl said loudly, catching everyone's attention before returning to her stage whisper. "A local would've known about the ledge, but she's a foreigner. She easily could've thrown-"

Lady Merchant suddenly cleared her throat, and Jess stopped mid-sentence and turned her attention to the front door, where her friend had subtly indicated. Mr. Horbury and the woman they'd just been discussing were now entering the lobby together, taking jovially amongst themselves. Miss Marple was certain that Jess was correct with her earlier assessment, for while Katherine was smiling as she spoke, it was clear she had no real regard for the man.

"Could you pass the tea, please?" Abby blurted out, and Miss Marple realised the girl had done so to draw attention back to their own table, no doubt realising it would be suspicious for their entire entourage to be staring at the entering couple unabashed. Inspector Harper picked up the teapot and handed it to the blonde girl as they all tried not to stare conspicuously at the newly arrived twosome. However, no conversation was resumed at their table as they all sat there in awkward silence, paying extreme attention to what was going on between the tall man and the woman in the red hat, despite being unable to hear much of what was said.

Eventually, friendly goodbyes must have been exchanged for Katherine ascended the stairs alone and disappeared down the corridor. Mr. Horbury had barely turned around when Jess leapt to her feet, announcing to the table, "I'm going to talk to him."

Instantly the men on either side of her each grabbed a hand to stop her, for once working together as they protested that it was a bad idea.

"I just want to find out what he knows about Katherine," she insisted, extricating her hands. "I won't give anything away."

She hurried off before they could persuade her to stay, and all eyes followed her across the lobby.

After a moment, Lady Merchant pointedly began, "So, Inspector," clearly trying to bring everyone's attention back once again to the table so her friend's questioning of the tall man wouldn't seem so much like an interrogation. "Is the weather always so wet here this time of year?"

Harper replied, and a mundane conversation about the weather ensued. Mr. Lester was in the middle of an amusing tirade, lambasting the weather in all of Great Britain, when Jess scurried back to the table.

"So how'd it go?" Connor asked eagerly, no doubt noticing, as Miss Marple did, the smug smile upon the girl's face.

"Brilliant. I found out that he didn't meet Katherine until arriving here Wednesday evening, so this thing between the two of them is relatively new, which totally fits my theory. I made certain to tell him to watch his back."

"Jess!" Lady Merchant scolded.

"What? I didn't tell him why. But I had to give him SOME reason for my asking so many questions about Katherine, so I just said I had my suspicions about her true motives. After all, she owns the bankrupt business he's been hired to get money out of-shouldn't he be watching his back anyway?"

Miss Marple nodded, hoping, as surely the others were, that no real damage had been done.

...

_to be continued_


	19. Chapter 19

_Chapter 19_

Luncheon was slow to disperse, as Inspector Harper clearly wanted to linger, and Captain Becker was not about to leave him alone with Jess. The Temples excused themselves, each hurrying off to their respective tasks, and Mr. Anderson and Lady Merchant eventually took their silent conversation elsewhere. Even Mr. Lester finally drifted away, leaving only the awkward threesome behind.

Certain he was overstaying his welcome, Miss Marple caught the Superintendent's eye and, giving him a pointed look, suggested, "Perhaps you should be getting back to the station?"

This simple reminder that the gun was in his possession and still needed to be thoroughly examined seemed to light a fire under him, and he quickly jumped to his feet. "I'm sorry to have to rush off," he said, eliciting an eyeroll from the Captain, "but I have...uh...work that needs to be done."

Jess stood as well, which meant Captain Becker got to his feet, causing the Inspector to unconsciously pull himself up to his full height.

"And you'll be looking into the other stuff as well, right?" the girl asked eagerly-she had spent the last 45 minutes laying out her case against Katherine, and the facts did seem to bear out her claim rather well.

A fact that Harper noticed, even if he was blinded by love. "Yes, I will definitely look into it." He turned to Miss Marple, asking, "If I bring Miss Reilly in, might you be available?"

Miss Marple laughed. "You know where I shall be all afternoon. These socks don't knit themselves, you know." She used this as her exit line, standing up from the table and walking over to a comfy chair in the sitting area where she could continue to observe with little notice from others.

"I'll be in touch," the Inspector acknowledged before turning back to the couple. "Well. I guess I must..." It was clear he didn't want to leave.

And it was clear the Captain wanted him to. "Yeah, guess you must," he grumbled.

Jess flashed the handsome soldier an annoyed look before turning back to the Inspector, offering, "We'll walk you out. It looks as if the rain has finally cleared, thank heavens!"

She started for the door and the two men were instantly at her side, fighting over who could open the door for her. Miss Marple was tempted to follow them out, simply as an amusing diversion in an otherwise dreary day, but she stayed in her chair. She had learnt from experience that a woman knitting quietly is well-nigh invisible, and that's exactly what she was hoping for, in case she got the chance to listen in on any other conversations. After all, Jess made a convincing case against Katherine, but Miss Marple still had her doubts. And even if she hadn't, there was still the other mystery to investigate.

So Miss Marple made sure she was deeply involved in her knitting by the time the lobby door opened once again. She caught a glimpse of Jess' red hat long before she saw the girl herself enter, with the captain in tow.

Once completely inside the lobby, with the front door shut behind them, the girl began. "What is your problem?" she snapped, clearly upset.

Captain Becker, however, looked surprised by her sudden outburst and raised an inquiring eyebrow.

"You just spent our entire meal behaving like an absolute prat!" Jess went on. "Could you have MADE lunch more awkward for everyone?"

The Captain rolled his eyes. "Oh, I'M the one making it awkward?"

"Kat! Wait!"

Miss Marple's attention was suddenly drawn to the corridor, from whence Mr. Brent's voice had just sounded. Turning, she saw Katherine, still clad in her own red hat, walking swiftly towards the lobby, the man who'd just called out to her only a few steps behind.

"Kat, please," he insisted, catching up to her just as she reached the stairs and grabbing her arm to stop her descent. "We need to talk."

She turned to him as she replied bitterly, "Oh, so NOW you want to talk?"

"-the Inspector." Captain Becker's comment was so vitriolic that it brought Miss Marple's attention back to the couple near the door. She had missed most of what the soldier had been saying, but from his tone she could certainly guess his meaning.

As could Jess. "Jealous much?" she asked pointedly.

"No!" the handsome soldier insisted, even though it was crystal clear this was the case. "I just don't see why I have to eat my first meal of freedom with the arse who's had me locked up for two days."

"He was just doing his job," Jess insisted.

"And what about YOU, Jessica?"

"What ABOUT me?"

"We must be careful!" Mr. Brent insisted loudly, and Miss Marple's attention was once more drawn back to the conversation upon the stairs. "We can't let everything fall apart now, Katherine, not after we've come this far."

"I couldn't agree more," she said coldly, still obviously angry. "So again, what's so important that you'd risk speaking to me now?"

The man frowned, obviously not wanting to have this discussion when she was in such a mood but seemingly not having much choice. "Look," he began, "it's about Mr. Horbury."

"Oh, you mean the man YOU told me to spend time with?" The Irishwoman was clearly still bitter over this fact-a fact that Miss Marple had not been previously aware of.

Mr. Brent must have noticed Katherine's tone for his softened as he stammered, "Listen, Kat, I was wrong. I...I think you should stay away from him."

Katherine smiled coyly. "Why, Mr. Brent, I do believe you are jealous."

"I'm not jealous!" he insisted, obviously sounding more vehement than he'd intended for he quickly lowered his voice to continue, "That's the least of my concerns at present."

"-stuck in prison for a crime you didn't commit!" Jess' heated voice had been steadily rising and had finally caught Miss Marple's ear.

"That's all well and good, Jessica, but what about the person who DID commit it?" Instead of agreeing with Jess' argument-whatever it might have been-the Captain now seemed even more convinced that she was wrong...and determined to tell her so. "Think about it," he practically yelled, a scolding tone to his voice, "there's a murderer out there, and you're just running off by yourself, chatting up complete strangers."

"So, what? You think I can't take care of myself?" Jess looked the soldier straight in the eye as she insisted, "I'm not stupid, you know."

The Captain seemed taken aback by this, as if that particular thought had never crossed his mind. His voice quickly softened as he tried to explain, "Jess, I never said-"

"Inspector Harper's actually quite impressed with my detective work," Jess stated firmly, her anger having the unintentional effect of making her voice sound even higher and more child-like than normal. "In fact, he's thinking about bringing Katherine in for more questioning, all thanks to the leg work I've been doing on the case."

It was perhaps the fact that, with her hands on her hips, she looked like a petulant child-or the fact that he had noticed Inspector Harper's obvious attraction to her-that made Captain Becker give a derisive snort. "Yeah, I'm sure he's impressed with your 'leg work'," he commented sardonically, glancing down at her skirt.

Jess' face turned red from both embarrassment and anger as she stammered, "Well, at...at least he's NICE to me, unlike-"

"I DON'T TRUST HIM!"

The words were cried out simultaneously by both men, causing them to ring even louder in Miss Marple's ears. However, each couple were so self-absorbed in their own arguments that they didn't even seem to notice their nearly parallel conversations.

It was Katherine's reaction-a hearty laugh-that caught Miss Marple's attention first. "He's a solicitor," the woman went on to say. "What do you expect?"

"I'm serious, Kat," Mr. Brent insisted. "I'm worried that this might have gone too far...that he might like you TOO much."

The Irishwoman gave a coy smile. "I don't see how there can be any harm in that."

"-can't be THAT naive!" The Captain's loud voice unfortunately distracted Miss Marple away towards the conversation by the door.

"I'm not," Jess insisted. "I know cops can be crooked. But not Inspector Harper-he's one of the good guys, I can tell."

The Captain rolled his eyes. "Yeah, 'cuz you have such a good track record judging people."

Now it was the girl's turn to raise an eyebrow. "I liked YOU, didn't I?" she asked pointedly.

But before Miss Marple could hear his retort, Katherine's voice cut through. "Stop being so melodramatic. I can take care of myself." She turned and started to walk away from the lobby, back towards the corridor, as she stated, "Besides, this shall all be over soon."

"Kat," Mr. Brent called after her, but she merely called back over her shoulder, "See you in court tomorrow," as she sashayed away.

The man left behind gave a frustrated sigh and stormed down the stairs and across the lobby, right past the other couple, whose conversation seemed to have taken a turn for the worse.

"I'm not going to stand here and take this from you!" Jess was obviously infuriated by something the Captain had just said and, try as he might, he couldn't get another word in as she continued, "I am not a child-I can take care of myself. And just watch-I'm going to solve this crime, and then won't you be sorry!"

And at that she turned on her heels and stormed out the door through which Mr. Brent had just exited. Miss Marple watched as the Captain took a step or two after her and then stopped himself, no doubt thinking the better of it, realising it'd probably be best to let her cool down. He turned around swiftly and caught Miss Marple looking his way. Having thus been caught, she gave him a warm smile, but he merely frowned and rushed off towards the stairs, leaving Miss Marple alone in the lobby, her ears still ringing with all she had just overheard.

...

_to be continued_


	20. Chapter 20

_Chapter 20_

Though her heart wasn't in it, Miss Marple resumed her knitting, hoping to be on-hand for any other exciting developments that might occur. But none came, and nearly an hour passed without anyone traversing the lobby. Miss Marple was surprised that Jess had not returned until she glanced out the window and realised that the sun had finally come out. 'Perhaps some fresh air and time to think is exactly what she needed,' she thought, wondering if that might be just the prescription for her as well.

But before she could make up her mind as to whether to abandon her knitting for a nice walk along the sea cliffs, Lady Merchant appeared, glancing about somewhat expectantly.

"Miss Parker went outside," Miss Marple offered helpfully, "nearly an hour ago."

The lady acknowledged her comment with a thankful nod before muttering under her breath, "Then why has Abby not yet returned?" She crossed to the door and exited, and only a few minutes later the blonde girl entered, no doubt having been relieved of her "watch" by Lady Merchant.

A short time later, when Miss Marple finally decided to put down her knitting and take in the scenery-after all, she was on holiday-her suspicions were confirmed by the presence of Lady Merchant upon the front lawn, staring anxiously into the window of the crime scene just as Abby had been doing these past few days.

Of course, the moment the lady noticed Miss Marple, she glanced away from the window, visibly stiffening, as if putting herself on guard for whatever questions might be coming her way. So Miss Marple merely gave her a warm smile and slowly ambled across the lawn in the lady's direction, as if she weren't about to launch an interrogation.

"Out enjoying the fresh air?" Miss Marple innocently inquired. "We were about due for a spot of sunshine."

"Yes." Her reply was polite yet brief, and Miss Marple guessed she would probably not get much information out of the girl at this time.

"Have you seen Miss Parker about?" the older woman asked.

Lady Merchant shook her head. "She is no doubt enjoying the view of the sea. It should be lovely, now that the sun is out-just the thing for one on holiday."

Miss Marple couldn't quite tell whether or not this was the girl's subtle way of hinting for her to go away, but as she planned to explore the area where the gun had been located, she decided to take the bait.

"Ah yes, I'm looking forward to the scenery. I haven't had a chance to see it since arriving. In fact, I haven't seen much..."

Miss Marple trailed off as she finally did see something. She'd been surreptitiously glancing about, as if merely taking in the hotel's pleasant grounds while actually attempting to get a look through the window to see what, if anything, could be seen. But when her gaze had finally fallen upon the room where the crime had occurred, all she could see of the darkened room was the side wall, extending back to the far corner behind the oriental screen. Suddenly the swirling miasma of light flashed through her memory, having been nearly forgotten in the excitement of the other mysteries, and she realised that this must be what their vigil was all about.

"You've been waiting for the strange light to return!" she blurted out before thinking of a subtle way to inquire. But now that the subject was out in the open, she whirled around towards Lady Merchant, curious to see her response.

If the lady had reacted at all to the question, she'd already regained control of herself by the time Miss Marple looked upon her. The lady, in fact, merely gave a droll smile as she replied, "Yes, it is strange to see the sun, since it has been so much absent of late."

From her bearing, it was clear Miss Marple was going to get nothing more elucidating from Emily at this time, so, giving an almost resigned smile, she commented, "Yes, I suppose I shall go enjoy our good fortune while it lasts. Would you care to join me for a stroll?"

Lady Merchant shook her head. "No, thank you. But go, enjoy the fine weather."

Miss Marple nodded and headed off across the side lawn, the one they'd all crossed, following Mr. Brent, merely a couple hours earlier. At that time, her thoughts had all been focused on the gun and its location, but now the murder was the furthest thing from her mind; instead, she was consumed with speculations about the mysterious visitors.

She was now certain, without a doubt, that they were watching for the strange swirling light that she had seen the night of the murder. Clearly they were anxious for its return, for why else would Abby have been willing to stand for hours in the freezing rain? And could that be what her husband's detector was to be for, detecting the strange phenomenon? Then certainly this anomaly, whatever it happened to be, was not unfamiliar to them. But did they fear its power, or desire its return-she wasn't quite sure.

Either way, that could certainly explain the presence of them all at the crime scene-they hadn't been there because of the body but because of the light instead. But why? What was it? Did it have a purpose? A secret government experiment, perhaps? Or a military weapon? Either of those could explain why the men had come, but why Jess and the other girls? And why, if it were part of a scientific inquiry, had they all arrived here in such an odd assortment of clothes?

This last thought occurred to her as she caught a glimpse of Jess' red hat up ahead, and the visual distraction brought Miss Marple out of her inner musings and back to the present. She paused a moment to take in her surroundings. She was currently upon the ridge they had ascended earlier with Mr. Brent, and this time she was struck even more by the remoteness of the spot. The view of the hotel was mostly blocked by the ridge, and small outcroppings of low trees were strategically clumped such as to block sight of the approach to the cliff.

Miss Marple shivered, despite the warm sun now beating down, as she realised this would be an ideal location for an ambush. Suddenly hyperaware, she glanced about, ensuring no one was nearby.

Of course, her observations showed that she was alone, except for the solitary  
>red hat up ahead in the distance, and Miss Marple scolded herself for being so paranoid.<p>

Though it doesn't hurt to be prepared for anything, she reminded herself.

Only she was in no way prepared for what happened next.

A blood-curdling scream...

and the sight of the red hat tumbling over the cliff.!

...

_to be continued_


	21. Chapter 21

_Chapter 21_

As Miss Marple hurried towards the cliff edge, she thought she saw a shadow disappearing into the nearby grove of trees; however, she had no time to pursue it for she was too concerned about Jess.

Reaching the spot where she had earlier stood with Mr. Brent and company, Miss Marple looked down and was relieved to see the girl lying upon the ledge where the gun had been found, her eyes closed but otherwise seemingly safe for the moment.

"What has happened?" Lady Merchant's voice was heard calling out as she hurried across the lawn. "I thought I heard..."

"You did," Miss Marple said, putting a steadying hand upon the lady's shoulder as she came to a sudden stop upon the cliff. "I believe she's injured, but her fall was stopped by the ledge."

Lady Merchant looked down upon her friend, the concern evident in her eyes. "Jess! Jess, are you okay?"

"She should be safe for now, but she'll probably need assistance climbing up," Miss Marple said, having seen the way the unconscious girl's ankle was awkwardly twisted beneath her. "Now quick-go get the men. I shall stay with her until you return."

The lady paused, trying to decide which course of action would be best, and finally came to the same conclusion as Miss Marple and ran off towards the hotel.

Miss Marple then returned her attention to the girl upon the ledge, who now seemed to be waking. Her eyes fluttered open, and her hand reached for where she'd evidently hit her head as she groggily mumbled, "What...? Oh..." She attempted to lift her head but was suddenly overcome with dizziness and rocked ominously towards the edge.

"Just lie still, Miss Parker," Miss Marple called down to her. "You are going to be fine. Help is on its way."

Lowering her head back down, Jess looked up, and the moment her gaze focused upon Miss Marple above, the girl's big blue eyes widened as the memory of what had just happened evidently came rushing back to her.

"You are safe," Miss Marple quickly soothed. "We will get you up soon." She glanced expectantly in the direction of the hotel but could not yet see anyone past the trees. Returning her attention to the girl below, she asked, "Do you recall what happened?"

Jess shook her head, cringing at the sudden pain. "I was just standing on the cliff, lost in my own thoughts, when suddenly..." She shuddered as the terrifying memory returned. But then her mood shifted, and she anxiously asked, "Did you see anyone? Did you catch him?"

Miss Marple shook her head, wondering if perhaps she should've pursued the shadow into the trees. But it was too late for that now, and she inquired, "Did you see who pushed you?"

Jess frowned as she shook her head, no doubt from the pain as well as the disappointment in not being able to identify her attacker.

"Don't fret," Miss Marple said. "We can worry about finding the culprit once we get you off that ledge."

Miss Marple was impressed with the courage of the girl, who seemed to take a steeling breath before attempting to adjust her injured ankle. However, the movement dislodged the large rock her foot had landed on, causing it to overbalance and plummet over the cliff, startling Jess so that she instantly burst into tears.

Miss Marple's heart broke for the hurt and obviously frightened girl stranded upon the narrow ledge below and quickly tried to soothe her. "You're okay. You're not going to fall. Just hold on." Glancing up, she noticed what appeared to be several figures hurrying towards them, so Miss Marple was quick to add, "Your friends are coming now, I see them. Just hold on."

At the mention of the others, Jess quickly tried to wipe away her tears. She looked up at Miss Marple, her voice desperate as she begged, "PLEASE don't tell them I cried."

Miss Marple thought crying had been a perfectly reasonable response to a terrifying situation, but the girl's pleading was so pathetic that she nodded, reassuring, "I won't say a word."

She then turned back to the approaching figures, who had almost reached them. Lady Merchant had brought with her Abby and, surprisingly, Inspector Harper, who must've just been returning to the hotel.

As they ran up to Miss Marple, Lady Merchant explained breathlessly, "I could not find the men, so I brought Inspector Harper instead."

The detective, luckily, did not seem to even notice this comment, so intent was he on ensuring for himself that Jess was, in fact, alive and not in eminent danger. "Miss Parker, thank goodness!" he exclaimed with relief as he observed her lying upon the ledge below.  
>"Are you injured?"<p>

Jess nodded. "My ankle's twisted."

Miss Marple put a hand upon Harper's shoulder and added in a low voice, so only those upon the cliff top could hear, "She also hit her head and was momentarily knocked out-she's still extremely dizzy."

The Inspector's eyes opened wide, realising the danger this spelled for the girl upon the narrow ledge, and immediately began to throw off his suit coat, obviously intent on climbing down to her himself.

However, Abby stopped him with a firm, "No, I'll go." She gave the tall man a meaningful look, clearly not wanting to say more for fear of upsetting the girl but making clear her concern that the crumbling ledge might not be sturdy enough to handle someone of the detective's stature.

Luckily, Harper seemed to understand what she was implying, yielding the direct rescue effort to the petite blonde girl without protest.

Abby started to scrabble down the steep cliff, dislodging assorted dirt and rocks as she went, causing tension to all present.

"Emily," she called up as she went, "go find Becker. He'll want to know."

But Lady Merchant frowned, clearly reluctant to leave her endangered friends.

Recognising this, and realising that she herself could do little else at the moment, Miss Marple quickly volunteered, "No, Lady Merchant, stay with your friend. I shall go find the others."

The lady gave her a thankful smile before turning her attention back to her two friends down below. Miss Marple hurried back towards the hotel, hoping she could find the Captain and his friend quickly.

...

_to be continued_


	22. Chapter 22

_Chapter 22_

Miss Marple rushed inside, hoping that Jess' companions would simply be lounging in the lobby. However, after the relatively recent row she'd witnessed between the girl and the Captain, Miss Marple was not surprised that he was not about. In fact, the entire lobby was currently empty, no doubt sue to most of the guests being out, taking advantage of the dry weather after days of rain.

Realising she did not know which room Jess' male companions were in, Miss Marple hurried over to the front desk. Mr. Campbell was not about, so Miss Marple picked up the silver desk bell and gave it a ring.

Yet no one appeared.

After an impatient moment, Miss Marple rang the bell a second time, louder and more frantically this time, yet her summons still went unanswered. Where could the hotel clerk be?

When it became clear that she was on her own, Miss Marple took a deep breath and tried to come up with a plan. True, she didn't know which room the Captain and Mr. Anderson were staying in, but she had seen the girls coming and going enough to know which room was Mr. Lester's, and surely he would know how to locate the others. Besides, whether or not he were an actual blood relation, Mr. Lester would probably like to know what had happened to the young girl.

So Miss Marple quickly made her way up the stairs, past her own room, and down the long corridor, knocking loudly when she reached her destination.

It did not take long for the government man to answer the door...or for him to express his displeasure at whom he found on the opposite side of the threshold.

"Yes?" he asked impatiently. "What do you want?"

"It's your Miss Parker. I'm afraid she-" Miss Marple stopped short, realising the sort of reaction she was liable to get if she merely blurted out, "she has been pushed over a cliff." Instead, she paused and stated more calmly, "She shall be fine, but I am afraid there has been an accident."

Mr. Lester's annoyed, patronising expression instantly turned to one of tender concern. "Parker? What's happened to her?"

Miss Marple lowered her voice, aware that they might not want to let it around, as there was obviously someone who wanted the young girl dead, before giving a brief explanation of events.

Mr. Lester immediately grabbed up his room key and hurried into the corridor, asking, "Where is she?"

"Outside, along the cliff path to the south. But wait," she added before he could get too far, "I must tell Captain Becker."

"Room 25," he called back to her, not breaking his stride. "And Connor and Abby are in 12."

Whether Jess was really his niece or not, he clearly showed a paternal concern for the girl. And thankfully Miss Marple now had the information she needed to find the others.

Glancing about, Miss Marple realised that room 25 must be in the other wing. She was eager to get news of the attack to the Captain and his friend but did not want to waste time backtracking, so instead she headed first for #12 nearby.

Her knock was answered by a mumbled, "Juhz-a-sehgg," as if Connor were speaking with an object in his mouth. He appeared at the door a moment later with what looked to be several pieces of a radio in his hands and a puzzled look upon his face. "Yer not Abby."

Miss Marple shook her head. "No, I am-"

"Something happened, di'n it?" he interrupted, obviously reading the concern on her face and automatically growing worried himself. "To Abby?"

"No, to Miss Parker."

"Jess? She gonna be okay? Where's she at?" he asked, absently handing the wired items he'd been working on to Miss Marple as he hurried into the corridor.

Surprised to suddenly find the electronics in her hands, it took her a moment to answer. "Um...along the southern cliffs."

"Thanks," he offered over his shoulder as he took off at a run. At least it could be said that they all seemed to care about the girl.

Of course, the one who cared about her most had still not been told, and Miss Marple was now alone in the corridor, her hands full and the Temples' door still standing ajar in front of her. Not wanting to trespass, but not knowing what else to do with the objects she'd been handed, she stepped into the room-a mirror image of her own-and set the electronics down upon the coffee table with the remains of Connor's work. Were she not anxious to find Captain Becker, Miss Marple might have taken a moment to try to deduce what exactly he was attempting to make, to see if her theory was correct that the detector was for the swirling light. Instead, she merely hurried out, pulling the door to behind her and then heading quickly back towards the lobby.

She had not yet had a chance to explore the other wing, but the corridor seemed similar to-if not newer than-the one her own room was off of. She wondered if this was a newer extension, part of the hotel's plan to grow, a plan that might now be in jeopardy because of the bankruptcy. If so, surely every trip down this corridor must cause bitter associations for Mr. Campbell and his family. And where was he this afternoon? As she'd passed the lobby just now, she had noticed he was still not behind his desk. But she shook off these thoughts in order to concentrate on finding the room.

As she neared it, she could hear the Irishman's soothing voice coming from behind the closed door, although she could make out no actual words, only his lyrical cadence. This was suddenly interrupted by the Captain's loud bark: "Mark my words-she's just asking for trouble!"

Miss Marple could only imagine how he'd react when she informed him that trouble had indeed found the girl, but there was nothing for it. Her knock was answered quickly by Mr. Anderson, whose poker face showed little surprise at her presence. "May I help you?" he asked politely, though she thought she detected a vague look of concern in his eyes.

"I am afraid something has happened," Miss Marple began, "to Miss Parker-"

"I knew it!" grumbled the agitated Captain, who had been pacing back and forth across the room. He now rushed straight for the door, impatiently shoving aside the two speakers at the threshold before sprinting down the corridor, not even inquiring what had happened or where the girl was.

The Irishman quickly steadied Miss Marple, then shut and locked the door before hurrying with her towards the lobby.

"What's happened?" he asked as they went, clearly worried and eager to learn the details now so he could be prepared for the worst.

"She, shall we say, went the way of the gun, I'm afraid."

He gave her a startled look, not even attempting to maintain his calm facade. "Is she-?"

"She shall be fine," Miss Marple was quick to reassure. "She hit her head, and I believe she may have injured her ankle, but she should be fine. However, I imagine she's had quite a scare, being pushed over like-"

They were just reaching the stairs to the lobby when they were almost bowled over by Captain Becker, who was returning from the other corridor, no doubt having assumed Jess would be in her own room.

"Where the hell is she?!" he demanded, this time absently steadying Miss Marple himself, having nearly knocked her off her feet for the second time.

"This way," she said, only imagining the kind of damage he could do upon the cliffs in his anxiousness. Miss Marple led the two men across the lobby and out into the sunshine-somehow it was hard to imagine a killer on the loose on such a pleasant afternoon.

However, the site of the near-fatal accident was soon in view, with Lady Merchant, Inspector Harper, and those who'd been informed earlier kneeling down along the edge of the cliff, no doubt assisting Jess up the jagged slope. Captain Becker took off at a sprint, eager to lend his own helping hands to the rescue effort. However, just as he arrived, the girl reached solid ground, obviously shaken, and, with an unconscious outpouring of relief, gratefully threw frantic arms about Inspector's Harper's neck.

...

_to be continued_


	23. Chapter 23

_Chapter 23_

As Captain Becker glared at his rival in Jess' embrace, Mr. Anderson calmly stated, "Quickly, let's get her inside."

"Can you walk?" Lady Merchant inquired worriedly.

Jess let go of the inspector and turned towards her friend. "Yes, I'm- OW!" she cried out, quickly removing the weight from her ankle by leaning heavily upon the inspector. "Or perhaps not," she said with a pathetic grin. "Seems I've twisted it."

"Or worse," Lady Merchant observed.

"Then you shouldn't walk on it," the Captain insisted, swooping Jess off her feet and into his arms. Miss Marple couldn't help but notice the slight smile upon his face as he did so, as if he were thankful for the opportunity to show up the inspector, who seemed bereft at the sudden loss of his arm ornament.

Jess, however, seemed none too pleased. "Don't be silly, Becker. It's not that bad. Surely the short walk back-"

"Don't listen to her," Mr. Lester instructed the soldier, who nodded and started back towards the hotel with the protesting Jess in his arms.

In the meantime, Connor's attention had returned to the edge of the cliff and, with the help of Emily and her fiance, was helping his wife back up from the ledge. The mutual concern that everyone in their party seemed to show for each other was certainly reassuring, especially as there was still a killer on the loose, one who unfortunately seemed intent on killing again.

Miss Marple started back towards the hotel, finding some much-needed amusement in the ragtag parade in which she now found herself in the midst of. Clearly jealous of Captain Becker's beautiful, albeit struggling, armload, Inspector Harper had managed to hurry ahead in order to be on-hand to chivalrously open the doors for them. Mr. Lester was following a short distance behind, loudly fretting about the girl's well-being and criticising the fact that they had allowed such a dreadful thing to happen to her in the first place. Lady Merchant and her fiance, having successfully extracted Abby from the ledge, were now deep in a whispered exchange behind Miss Marple, and, glancing back, it was clear that Connor was making a fuss over his brave yet muddy wife. Miss Marple could not help but feel that their long, drawn-out procession was apt to attract attention-attention that they might not want to draw until after certain questions had been answered.

So the moment they were inside the luckily still-empty lobby, and Captain Becker was in the process of gently setting his charge down upon a settee, Miss Marple stated, "Not here. Not out in the open."

Mr. Lester understood in an instant for he hastily instructed, "My room."

Unfortunately the order had not been given quite soon enough, and the soldier was too far in his task to right himself with Jess still in his arms. He thus reluctantly set her down, not wanting to overbalance, and adjusted his stance so he could lift her once again. Jess, however, wriggled free of his grasp and quickly stood, unsteady on her injured ankle. Inspector Harper was there in an instant, taking hold of her elbow and placing a steadying hand upon her lower back.

"Careful, Miss Parker-you don't want to injure your ankle more by putting your weight upon it."

"Here, Jess," Captain Becker said, grabbing her other elbow as he glared over her head at his competitor, "let me help."

The girl looked from one man to the other, her face nearly the colour of the hat that had tumbled over the cliff.

Lady Merchant must've noticed her friend's unease as well for she gave a pointed look to her fiance. He nodded and rushed over, giving a quiet reprimand of "We're wasting time here," before picking up the girl himself and hurrying off towards the stairs with her, the others in tow.

Once they all reached Mr. Lester's room, with the door locked behind them and Jess upon the settee with her ankle propped up and Abby tending to it, Captain Becker barked loudly, "So what the hell happened?!"

Mr. Anderson glared at the soldier, silently ordering him to keep his voice down , before kneeling next to the girl and quietly asking, "Jess, what happened? Were you pushed?"

Up until now, Jess had been putting on a brave face in front of her friends. Although she was clearly shaken, and no doubt a bit groggy from the knock on the head, she had been holding herself together, trying her best to smile and put the others at ease. But with this sudden blunt reminder of what had happened-and what might have happened, had the ledge not stopped her fall-the seriousness of the situation came rushing back in, and the young girl once again burst into hysterical tears.

It seemed to catch almost everyone off-guard, and they all stared numbly at her, not knowing quite what to do.

But Lady Merchant knew. Briskly shoving aside her fiance with barely a second glance, she sat down upon the edge of the settee and took the sobbing girl into her arms. Jess buried her head into her friend's chest and continued to cry as Emily held her close, mumbling soft reassurances into her friend's hair as she tenderly rocked her back and forth. Miss Marple was frankly surprised, as the lady hardly seemed the nurturing sort, but something in her manner suggested that she herself knew the overwhelming fear that can follow an attempt on one's own life.

Eventually the girl's sobs began to abate, and Lady Merchant glanced over at her fiance, mouthing the word, "Tea."

But before Mr. Anderson could get as far as the door, Mr. Lester was offering the girl something else. "This should do the trick," he said, awkwardly holding out a snifter to her.

Slowly Jess pulled away from her friend, still sniffling, and Miss Marple quickly offered the girl her handkerchief. After blowing her nose and, at Mr. Lester's insistence, taking several sips of brandy, the girl smiled weakly up at the others, giving an embarrassed, "Sorry."

"No need to apologise," Connor quickly reassured. "I mean, I'd probably be a blubbering fool, too, if someone'd tried to kill-"

"Connor!" the blonde girl, who was still knelt at Jess' ankle, jabbed her husband in the shins.

Jess, however, merely laughed through her tears. "It's okay. I'm okay now."

But obviously not wanting to restart the waterworks, Inspector Harper turned towards Miss Marple instead and asked, "So what exactly did you see, Miss Marple?"

Shrugging, she shook her head. "Not much, I'm afraid. I was merely having a pleasant stroll, enjoying the sunshine, when suddenly I heard Miss Parker cry out." She paused, making certain that the girl was handling it okay, before going on. "When I turned, I only caught a glimpse of Miss Parker's hat tumbling over the edge."

Jess' breath caught momentarily, and Lady Merchant gave her friend a reassuring squeeze. Mr. Anderson waited to ensure the girl wasn't going to burst into tears again before asking, "And you didn't see anyone else?"

Miss Marple shook her head. "No one." She wasn't certain whether the shadow she'd seen had been real or merely a trick of the light, but as she would be unable to identify the culprit, she decided it was pointless to mention it.

"You sure you di'n just slip, Jess?" Connor asked, getting an angry elbowing, in the ribs this time, from Captain Becker. "Hey, it's possible, ain't it?" he quickly defended. "I mean, just look at her shoes."

Everyone's attention was drawn to the high heel that remained on her good foot, considering the possibility. After all, the idea of an accident was less unsettling, less likely to haunt their dreams, than the thought of a murderer on the loose.

But alas, his theory could not be supported by the facts, for Jess insisted, "No, I was definitely pushed."

"By who, Jess?" Captain Becker demanded.

"Did you see the culprit, Miss Parker?" Inspector Harper queried, stressing her proper title as if to highlight the Captain's rudeness.

"No. I just suddenly felt his hands-"

"His?" Miss Marple asked.

Jess nodded. "I'm pretty sure it was a man. He was definitely strong. He only gave me one strong shove with both hands and I-" She shivered at the traumatic memory, and Lady Merchant pulled her in closer.

"But you didn't catch a glimpse of him? Height? Build? Colouring?" Harper offered, wanting to ensure there wasn't some detail she'd noted.

However, she shook her head. "Not a thing. Sorry!"

"I'm not surprised," Abby grumbled. "I don't know how you could see ANYTHING with that ridiculous hat of yours on."

But this remark seemed to suddenly awaken something in Jess for she sat up straight, insisting, "That's it! The hat!"

"What's it?" Mr. Lester asked, as confused as the rest of the company by her outburst.

"Don't you see?" Jess asked, clearly excited. "With my hat on and my back to him, the killer wouldn't have been able to see my face. So maybe I wasn't the person he was after!"

"You weren't?" Connor asked, thoroughly flummoxed. "Then who was?"

"Katherine, of course!" the girl said, as if the answer were obvious. "It all makes sense now. Don't you remember-she was wearing a red hat this morning, too. I bet the killer saw me and just assumed I was Katherine."

Inspector Harper did not look convinced. "But I thought earlier you were convinced that Miss Reilly herself was the killer." Miss Marple guessed by his tone that he'd returned to the hotel in order to bring the woman in for questioning.

"Well, she's clearly INVOLVED," Jess insisted. "And clearly I'm not. So why else would anyone want to kill ME?"

The room grew silent, as no one had a good answer.

...

_to be continued_


	24. Chapter 24

_Chapter 24_

Miss Marple was trying to sort everything out in her head. There were so many questions-and so few answers-that she simply couldn't see how it all fit together. Perhaps Jess was correct and she hadn't been the person that the killer intended to push over, but if that were the case, that only opened up more questions.

Questions that the rest of the group seemed to prefer posing aloud.

"But if he weren't meant to kill you, Jess," Connor began, "then he botched it worse than we thought, yeah?"

His wife frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, s'posing he meant to KILL Katherine yet only succeeded in HURTING Jess-he got none of it right."

The Irishman nodded. "Awfully bungling for someone who already got away with one murder."

"Only for the time being," Inspector Harper quickly defended. "And he already bungled the disposal of the gun, so we know he's getting careless."

"But presumably HE does not," Lady Merchant pointed out. "Hopefully he is unaware that the gun has been found."

"That's it!" Jess exclaimed. "Like with the gun, let's not tell him I was found. Let's pretend I'm dead."

"Brilliant!" Connor's eyes sparkled. "Just like _Much Ado About Nothing_, how they pretended that Hero was dead so the jealous guy would feel bad."

Miss Marple was a bit taken aback that Connor knew Shakespeare's work, but his wife seemed more concerned with the suggestion itself, not the source. "But how would that sort of deception help?"

"Well, the killer thinks I'm dead, yeah?" Jess stated directly, as if this disturbing fact no longer upset her. "So if I were dead-or at least he thought I was-he'd think he'd gotten away with it, just like he thinks he got away with disposing the evidence from the first murder. So then he might start to get even MORE cocky and careless."

"But if he thought he killed Katherine," Lady Merchant pointed out, "what difference would it make if YOU were 'dead'?"

Her fiance nodded. "And as soon as he sees Katherine, he'll know he made a mistake, that his scheme didn't work."

"Not necessarily," Captain Becker grumbled.

"What do you mean?" Mr. Anderson asked.

"I mean, why would he instantly assume he'd made a mistake and gotten the wrong girl? Why not just assume that she'd survived?"

"Survived?!" Connor asked, incredulous. "Getting pushed over a cliff? No one would believe that!"

"*I* survived!" Jess pointed out.

"Well, regardless," Lady Merchant sighed, clearly frustrated that the conversation was straying so far from the topic, "he'd know his plan to kill Katherine hadn't worked, thus placing her in even more danger."

"Then why not have HER play dead as well?" Connor asked, obviously not wanting to give up the scheme quite yet.

Inspector Harper, however, shook his head. "We haven't the resources to keep two of you 'dead' and under protection, especially as we've no idea how long we would need to keep you so."

Jess shrugged nonchalantly. "Just until you solve the murder."

"And who knows how long THAT will be," Becker grumbled drily, glaring accusingly towards Harper.

"And what if Katherine's somehow behind it all?" Abby said. "In that case, asking her to play dead in order to smoke out the killer may only succeed in warning him instead."

Jess wasn't convinced. "But why would Katherine be behind it?"

"For all the reasons YOU stated at lunch," the blonde girl insisted.

"But clearly I was wrong about all that, since someone obviously wants her dead."

"That's still just a theory," Captain Becker murmured under his breath.

"Just for the sake of argument," Abby suggested, "let's assume Katherine IS somehow behind the first murder-after all, Jess made a convincing argument for it."

"Plus there's the whole 'Katherine' thing," Mr. Anderson cryptically reminded his friends.

"Yes, that, too," the blonde girl nodded. "So let's say she's behind it but didn't actually commit the first murder. Perhaps her accomplice became worried that she was going to rat him out and therefore tried to kill her to keep her quiet."

"Ooh, I like it!" her husband enthused. "Nothing like a good ole bit of backstabbing between criminals."

"But remember," Lady Merchant pointed out, "no matter the intended target, whoever pushed Jess wasn't aware of the ledge, or else he would have done the deed elsewhere along the cliff's edge."

"Mr. Brent was the only one who knew about the ledge," Jess pointed out.

"Besides us," Mr. Lester corrected, but it was obvious to Miss Marple that no one in this group seemed eager to turn on the others...excepting the two taller gentlemen, between whom no love was lost.

"Who is to say that Mr. Brent kept the secret?" Lady Merchant proposed.

"But why tell?" Connor asked. "What'd be the point?"

"Protecting his friends?" Mr. Anderson suggested.

"Or his co-conspirators," Abby added.

"Exactly," Lady Merchant said. "If he were involved in the murder, he might be eager to warn his fellow conspirators that the gun had been found."

But then why tell anyone about the gun in the first place? Miss Marple mused, thinking of her earlier conversation with the Inspector. She glanced at him across the room and shared a look, pleased to see he shared her opinion.

Clearly, however, the others did not for they were still speculating.

"Then again," Mr. Anderson brought up, "anyone he told wouldn't have tried to push someone over at that spot, knowing the ledge was there."

"Then perhaps he only told one of them?" Connor suggested.

His wife, however, didn't seem to buy it. "So, what, now we have three people behind the killing?"

"This is getting ridiculous," Captain Becker grumbled under his breath-it was clear he was a doer and didn't like all this standing about.

"My head hurts," Jess complained.

"Mine, too," Connor agreed.

Mr. Anderson nodded. "We're not going to solve this crime simply by sitting around hypothesising as to-"

"No, I mean my head hurts," Jess said, putting a hand to where she'd cracked her head upon the ledge. As everyone turned their attention back to the girl upon the settee, they all must've noticed, as Miss Marple did, just how pale and tired the patient suddenly looked.

"Jess, you need rest," Lady Merchant said, obviously worried about her friend.

"And some peace and quiet, too," Mr. Lester pronounced. He turned to the others, ordering, "Out, all of you."

Miss Marple, realising they were right, was the first out the door.

...

_to be continued_


	25. Chapter 25

_Chapter 25_

Miss Marple headed straight for the lobby. She imagined the others would take some time to disperse, and she wanted to get some distance ahead so others at the hotel wouldn't think they'd all been conspiring together...even though that's exactly what they'd been doing!

As she reached the stairs, she saw an expectant Mr. Horbury, sat at one of the tables, give a disappointed sigh upon seeing that it was only she approaching. Interesting, Miss Marple thought, considering that the only person he'd previously seemed eager to see was Katherine-that seemed to suggest that he had NOT tried to push Miss Reilly over the cliff...if indeed she had been the intended victim.

Miss Marple descended the stairs, giving the tall man a warm smile. "Waiting for tea?" she asked.

Mr. Horbury nodded, frowning as he looked about. "I don't know where Mr. Campbell is. I rang the bell some time ago, but he doesn't seem to be here." As the man's solicitor, it was clear that Mr. Horbury did not want to complain too loudly, but obviously his temper was short.

And where could Mr. Campbell be? Miss Marple wondered, realising she had not seen the hotel clerk about all afternoon.

"I'm certain he'll be back shortly," she said aloud as she took a seat upon a settee quite a ways from the man and took out her knitting. She then casually asked, "So did you have a chance to get out and enjoy the views this afternoon?"

Mr. Horbury seemed almost to start at the question before shaking his head. "I suppose the sun HAS finally come out, but not I, I'm afraid. Been cooped up with my papers all afternoon. As you pointed out, the death of Mr. Evans is liable to wreak havoc with this bankruptcy scheme, and I want to get on top of it to ensure Mr. Campbell gets all the money that he's due."

"How very dedicated you are, working on a Sunday," Miss Marple commented. "It must be difficult, when no businesses are open."

The man gave her a condescending smile, as if she knew nothing about a solicitor's trade. However, his smile almost instantly changed to a smitten grin, and, upon turning her head, Miss Marple was not exactly surprised to see Katherine descending the stairs.

"I hope I am not late," the woman apologised as she hurried over, her red hat still upon her head.

"Not at all," Mr. Horbury said as he held out a chair for her. "In fact, quite the opposite-Mr. Campbell has gone missing, it seems, so we've no tea as of yet."

"Gone missing?" Katherine repeated, sounding almost worried.

"I'm certain he's just stepped out for a bit," Miss Marple offered.

Katherine quickly turned her head towards the voice, obviously not having noticed the older woman when she'd entered. "Oh, hello, Miss Marple," she said, sounding almost guarded, as if she realised that her earlier argument with Mr. Brent had been overheard. "Hasn't the weather turned fine?"

But before Miss Marple could answer, Mr. Campbell came scurrying in from behind the front desk. He was out of breath, as if he'd been running, suggesting that there must be a back door to his quarters. Upon seeing Mr. Horbury sat with the woman in the red hat, he momentarily frowned before his customer service manners kicked in. "I'm sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Horbury. I presume you'd like tea?"

"Yes, please."

Katherine's reply was pleasant enough, but the hotel clerk gave her no acknowledgement, clearly wanting nothing to do with the woman. Instead, he pointedly turned to Miss Marple and asked, "And tea for you as well, ma'am?"

Realising that tea might be just what she needed-and realising it would give her a chance to chat with the man when he brought it to her table-she gave a polite nod.

"It'll be just a tick," he said with a smile before disappearing into the kitchen.

Katherine didn't seem much bothered by her encounter with the rude clerk for she'd already struck up a conversation with her companion. Their voices were relatively low, no doubt aware that they weren't alone, and Miss Marple could only make out a word here and there amongst the Irishwoman's lilting cadence. However, it was clear that the conversation was not one of import, for Miss Marple could tell by Katherine's forced laughter that Mr. Horbury was talking romantic nonsense.

Miss Marple was pleased, therefore, when Mr. Campbell soon reappeared with a large tea tray. After depositing a teapot and sundries at the couple's table, the hotel clerk came over to Miss Marple, handing her a plate of biscuits with an apologetic smile. "I'm so sorry, Miss Marple. I hope you weren't waiting too long."

"Not at all," she said, watching him carefully as he poured her a cup of steaming tea. "I was out enjoying the sunshine. The views are absolutely gorgeous."

If the clerk were nervous about having been seen upon the clifftops himself, he certainly didn't show it.

"I'm so glad. This holiday must be such a disappointment for you, what with the rain and the unpleasantness of the murder. It is not usually like this, I promise you. I do so hope you'll return to our hotel again in future." He shot a glare across at Katherine before mumbling under his breath, "That is, if the hotel is even still here."

Miss Marple studied him as she innocently asked, "But isn't Mr. Horbury going to do his best for you and your family? He seems quite dedicated-he told me he spent all afternoon going through papers regarding this whole bankruptcy business."

Mr. Campbell gave a sardonic snort as he replied, "Dedicated isn't the word I'd use. Smitten, more like."

So the hotel clerk was clearly unhappy with the solicitor's romantic intentions. But, Miss Marple wondered, was he unhappy enough to kill someone?

"So were you out enjoying the sunshine yourself this afternoon?" she asked casually.

"I wish!" he murmured under his breath before explaining, "I was in town visiting my Nan. 'Twas she and my grandfather who started this hotel. I haven't yet had the heart to tell her that we may lose it."

Miss Marple could hear the pain in his voice, and although it was more sorrowful than vengeful, she decided to pursue the topic that was foremost on her mind.

"In town, you say?" she repeated, keeping her voice low so that the couple across the room would not overhear. "So then you have not heard about the excitement along the cliffs?"

"What excitement?" Mr. Campbell asked warily.

"Concerning Miss Parker," Miss Marple went on, surreptitiously keeping a vigilant eye upon his reactions. "The sweet little auburn-haired girl, the one with the big red hat?"

Mr. Campbell nodded, his eyes flashing with recognition. "Ah yes, I know the one-she and her lady friend arrived the night of the murder with her uncle, I believe."

"Yes, that's the one. Well, I'm sorry to say that she was out walking this afternoon...and went over the edge."

The hotel clerk gasped. "Oh no, not another one!" he said, more to himself than Miss Marple. "First the murder, and now this? Our reputation shall be ruined-once word gets out, we'll go under for sure. Oh, what will I tell my Nan?"

"Do not fret, Mr. Campbell," Miss Marple quickly tried to quiet him, not wanting the others to hear their discussion. "Miss Parker shall be fine. She was barely injured."

"Barely injured? What a relief!" he exclaimed before a light bulb seemed to go on in his head. "Oh, was she perhaps at Copse Point? There's a ledge there, you know, which might've broken her fall-that might explain why the fall didn't kill her." He gave a huge sigh before declaring, "Thank goodness we don't have another death on our hands!"

Unfortunately, his relief made him loud, and Mr. Horbury and Katherine glanced their way, clearly having caught his final statement.

The cat was out of the bag now. But at least Miss Marple could scratch one more suspect off her list...which was growing ever shorter.

...

_to be continued_


	26. Chapter 26

_Chapter 26_

After the hotel clerk disappeared back into the kitchen, Miss Marple expected the couple at the table to inquire about what they'd just overheard, and they very likely would have had the front door not suddenly opened.

Both Katherine and Mr. Horbury turned to see who was arriving, but their responses to the entry of Mr. Brent were quite different. The woman flashed an almost defiant smile at the man, obviously in response to their earlier argument, before turning back to Mr. Horbury and flirtatiously taking hold of his hand. The solicitor, however, openly glared at the entering man, who returned the look with equal hatred when his eyes fell upon the couple. Mr. Brent quickly turned and hurried through the lobby, keeping a wary eye upon his rival until he reached the stairs. It was not until he had disappeared down the corridor that Mr. Horbury even seemed to notice Katherine's hand in his, and by then, all memory of the hotel clerk's exclamation had faded.

However, that didn't mean that the question wouldn't arise in future, and Miss Marple wondered how exactly she should reply, as an agreement had never been reached as to how to handle the matter. She decided, therefore, that it would be wise to confer with the Inspector and determine how best to handle the situation. Abandoning the hot cup of tea she'd just been poured, she excused herself and headed for the stairs.

As she started up them, she saw Inspector Harper finally emerging from Jess' room, with Captain Becker hot on his heels. The two men were halfway down the corridor-far enough away that those back in the room could not hear but close enough for Miss Marple to catch every word-when the soldier spoke forcefully under his breath.

"You know as well as I do that the killer wasn't after Katherine."

The inspector started at the sudden, angry voice behind him and turned to face the man. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, I think it's awfully convenient that you were around only moments after Jess was pushed over."

Harper stiffened at the accusation. "What are you saying?"

Captain Becker merely replied with a petulant shrug.

The detective gave an incredulous laugh. "What-you think *I* pushed Miss Parker over the ledge merely so I could be on hand to help rescue her?"

"Perhaps. Or perhaps you decided you'd rather see her dead than with someone else."

Harper took a menacing step closer to the soldier, calmly responding, "Interesting attitude-is it yours?"

Captain Becker rolled his eyes. "Hardly. Besides I've no reason to be jealous; she's not that into you."

"Really? Then why are you so threatened by having me around?"

Now it was the soldier's turn to go on the defensive. "Threatened?! I'm not!" he insisted emphatically.

"You could've fooled me."

Captain Becker pulled himself up to his full height as he snapped, "A sign around the killer's neck saying, 'I did it,' could've fooled you."

Inspector Harper took a threatening step towards his rival. "My only foolish move today was letting you out of custody. Don't you find it suspicious that Miss Parker was perfectly safe the entire time you were behind bars, yet within a few hours of your release she's tumbling over a cliff?"

"So, what are you saying? You think *I* pushed her?"

"Well, last I checked, you were found in the hotel room of a man moments after he was murdered. After getting away with that crime, why not add one more to the list?"

"I would never hurt Jess." Despite the rage in his tone, Miss Marple somehow believed the soldier to be telling the truth.

But clearly Harper did not. "You were perfectly willing to hurt her earlier." Captain Becker's eyebrows raised in surprise, and the Inspector continued, "She told us all about your quarrel. She explained that that was why she was out walking by herself, because she was so upset and hurt by all you'd said."

"I wanted her to be more careful; is that so wrong?" Becker defended, clearly upset that his and Jess' dirty laundry had been so publicly aired and wanting to tell his side of the story. "She was sticking her nose in where she shouldn't, and I was worried. And just look at what happened!"

"Yeah, just look-she made herself a target because of you."

But Captain Becker was so enraged, he wasn't about to take the blame. "She wouldn't have been a target in the first place if you had caught the murderer already. Isn't that your job?"

Miss Marple could see the inspector clenching his fists in fury, as if he were struggling to prevent himself from physically attacking the man, and she decided it was time to step in.

"Gentlemen," she said, loudly but firmly. Both men started in surprise and turned to her as she scurried towards them down the corridor. "I must have a word with Inspector Harper. In my room?"

The two men shared a look before the soldier stormed past them both, obviously headed for his own room down the other corridor. Harper begrudgingly followed Miss Marple, although he did not seem to let his guard down until they were safely alone, with the door locked behind them.

She didn't bother with preambles or reprimands and got straight to the point. "I think I know what happened, who killed Mr. Evans and made the attempt on Miss Parker's life."

The detective looked both surprised and relieved. "Who?"

"I don't want to say just yet. I need to gather some information first before I can be certain-information that cannot be obtained until tomorrow, when the banks and other government institutions are open."

The detective nodded, obviously intimately aware of how difficult it was to make official inquiries on a lazy Sunday afternoon.

"But in the meantime, I need you to do something for me," Miss Marple said. "With the attempt this afternoon, it's clear that the killer is becoming more desperate, and it's your job to protect the citizenry. The proof will come, of course, but I'm more interested in saving a life at present."

Harper instantly looked worried. "Not Miss Parker's, I hope."

"No, though I would advise that she stay out of sight in the meantime." She realised that she was, in essence, agreeing to the young girl's ridiculous plan to play dead, but it was only for the evening, and with her injured ankle, she probably wouldn't be out and about much anyway.

The detective gave a sigh of relief before asking, "So what do you want me to do?"

The answer was simple. "Lock up Mr. Brent."

...

_to be continued_


	27. Chapter 27

_Chapter 27_

It wasn't long before rumours of Mr. Brent's incarceration were swirling amongst the hotel guests. Miss Marple did not fancy discussing it for fear of giving something away before she had the proof in hand, so she stayed in her room, taking stock of those she needed to contact in the morning in order to prove her conjectures. Come suppertime, she requested soup in her room, and Mr. Campbell delivered it, along with several unpleasant words regarding the arrested man.

Before bed, she headed down the corridor towards the facilities and was practically run into by Katherine, who was just leaving her own room. The Irishwoman's eyes were red with tears, but of more interest was the fact that she didn't seem to respond when a limping Jess suddenly emerged from the toilet, leaning on Lady Merchant to avoid stepping on her injured ankle. Katherine's reaction, or lack thereof, thus seemed to confirm Miss Marple's suspicions that the Irishwoman was unaware of what had occurred on the cliff.

As Katherine scurried by without another glance, Jess caught sight of Miss Marple and called out to her, "We heard the news. I can't believe Mr. Brent is the killer."

Miss Marple nodded, adding, "All will be explained tomorrow."

"All?" Lady Merchant asked skeptically.

"I hope so," Miss Marple replied, truly hoping that, with one mystery solved, she could get to the bottom of the other as well.

The next morning Inspector Harper sent a car to bring Miss Marple to the station. He was more than willing to put his entire staff at her disposal, knowing that she was liable to produce the evidence that was needed to put a killer away.

And produce it she did, such that by 11 a.m. she was ready to present her case. At her request, she gathered all the players-including the recently incarcerated Mr. Brent-in the lobby of the hotel, not wanting to have to repeat her story more than once. As the motley crew assembled themselves, Miss Marple was amused to see Inspector Harper glaring at Captain Becker as the soldier helped a limping Jess down the stairs and over to her seat. Mr. Brent and Mr. Horbury, on the other hand, both seemed surprised at this sight, though it was hard to tell if they were more startled to see the young girl's wrapped ankle or merely to see her alive at all.

Katherine, however, was paying no attention to Jess, her focus entirely on Mr. Brent instead. She had obviously spent a rough night for her eyes were red and she hadn't even bothered to style her short curls this morning.

Once everyone had settled, Miss Marple stood in front of the anxious crowd, ready to explain her case. But first, she had to give them some background.

"Love has the ability to make the most perfectly sane people behave quite irrationally," she began, glancing pointedly from Inspector Harper to Captain Becker before going on. "Love of money, love of possessions, even love of a woman. And this case was about all of these. Mr. Campbell loved his family's hotel and was devastated that he might lose it. Our victim, Mr. Evans, loved his money, and he was furious that his partner had made such an unwise business decision as investing in Miss Reilly's firm. And it was this disapproval of the business deal that made Mr. Brent hide his love for Miss Reilly. Mr. Horbury, on the other hand, didn't arrive until later, when he was hired to deal with the legal arrangements regarding the bankruptcy. He met Miss Reilly at the hotel and soon fell in love, yet despite her attentions, he could sense that her affections were not wholly his, for she also appeared to have also feelings for Mr. Brent."

Miss Marple paused, allowing her words to sink in. All the players she'd mentioned were shifting nervously in their seats, eyeing the others with suspicion. Jess, however, was looking extremely smug, clearly pleased that she had come to the same conclusions. Yet despite her radiant smile, Inspector Harper was for once not blindly distracted by the pretty girl, his attention instead warily focussed upon the suspects, ready to spring into action when needed.

Miss Marple went on. "Mr. Horbury is a solicitor, used to getting what he wants, so he was determined to win Miss Reilly's affections, no matter what the cost."

"So you think I'M the killer?" Mr. Horbury let out a derisive snort. "Nice theory, Miss Marple," he said, his voice dripping with condescension, "but I couldn't have committed the murder. If you remember, I was stuck in the corridor with you whilst those two men were inside with Mr. Evans."

Captain Becker tensed, ready to come to his own defence, but a pointed look from Mr. Anderson made him sit back, saying nothing.

Jess, on the other hand, wasn't afraid to speak up. "But why kill Mr. Brent's partner?" she asked skeptically. "Surely Katherine wasn't in love with him as well."

"But he DIDN'T kill Mr. Brent's partner," Miss Marple explained. "Or at least, he didn't mean to. The intended target was clearly Mr. Brent-after all, Mr. Evans was found in Mr. Brent's room, wearing a suit not dissimilar to the one Mr. Brent was wearing that night. With the victim stood at the far desk, with his back to the door, the killer must've thought he was killing his archrival in love, which is why he was so surprised when Mr. Brent appeared in the corridor after the shooting."

Mr. Horbury shook his head, trying to maintain his composure, although his clenched fists belied his otherwise calm exterior. "It's true I was surprised to see him, but only because I'd assumed he was the dead man on the floor. It doesn't mean I'm the one who killed him. Besides, how could I possibly have done it? I own no gun. And the door was locked when I got there."

"Or was it?" Miss Marple asked. "We only had your word for it. By all accounts, you were the first person on the scene, already struggling with the 'locked' door when the rest of us arrived."

"It WAS locked!' Mr. Horbury insisted, his voice starting to rise. "Why on earth would I lie about that?"

Miss Marple gave him a pointed look. "Why indeed?"

Lady Merchant, however, seemed stuck on certain earlier points. "But if that were the case, where did the gun come from? And why was Mr. Evans in Mr. Brent's room?"

Miss Marple had anticipated these questions. "Mr. Evans was certain that something suspicious was going on-although not the accountant for the business, he could see that the numbers weren't adding up. Miss Reilly's father had owned a thriving business, but shortly after their involvement, the business was suddenly going bankrupt, even with additional investments. Mr. Evans was convinced that his partner was somehow pilfering money from the business, and he wanted to try to get his hands on the paperwork that would prove this. As for the gun, it belonged to none other than Mr. Evans himself."

"The victim was shot with his own gun?" Connor blurted out, surprised, like the rest of the room, at this latest revelation.

Yet Katherine seemed concerned with a different detail. "What paperwork?" she asked, unable to disguise the fear in her voice.

"Yes, how could Mr. Brent be doing such a thing?" Mr. Lester interjected. "Surely the bankruptcy proceedings would have disclosed any additional business deals."

"Business deals, yes, but not family finances," Miss Marple explained. "If done carefully, it would be quite easy to transfer money away from the business to a family member, money which could then not be touched by the bankruptcy. Especially if the family member were a foreign national."

Mr. Brent, too, was looking extremely nervous as he insisted, "But my whole family's English."

"True," Miss Marple affirmed. "But your wife's isn't." She turned from Mr. Brent to Katherine, who, according to the registrar's records, had been Mrs. Brent for these past several months.

Mr. Horbury gasped, all semblance of his calm facade falling away. "WIFE?!"

Katherine and Mr. Brent shared a look, knowing they'd been found out, as Mr. Horbury jumped to his feet, sheer hatred in his eyes.

"Why couldn't you have been in your room?" he cried at the intended victim. "You were meant to be there! You were meant to be dead!"

But Inspector Harper was already at the criminal's side, placing him in handcuffs as the man continued to spew hateful-and incriminating-words at the couple. As P.C. Fisher finally led him away, Harper turned to the Brents, saying, "You two had best come down to the station as well. We will, of course, be informing the magistrate of the money that is squirreled away in Katherine's name in Ireland, but any cooperation on your part will surely be considered during sentencing."

Mr. Brent nodded, realising the Inspector was right. And now that everyone knew the truth, he offered his loving wife a hand as they stood and docilely followed the Inspector out of the hotel, leaving the others behind in a state of shock over what they'd just witnessed.

The hotel clerk was the first to speak. Turning to Miss Marple, he asked, "So you mean we might not lose her hotel after all?"

Miss Marple nodded. "Most of the money is still there, though it may take some time to track it all down."

But Mr. Campbell seemed happy, nonetheless. "I can't wait to tell my Nan! Please excuse me," he said, standing up and hurrying towards his back office, leaving Miss Marple alone with Jess and her friends.

"Ah, Mr. Campbell's so sweet," Jess exclaimed, watching him go. "I'm so glad he, at least, gets a happy ending."

Mr. Anderson nodded. "The murderer imprisoned, the embezzlers caught, and the hotel saved." For the first time, Miss Marple saw a full-blown expression upon his face as he turned to her with grateful admiration, praising, "Cheers. Justice shall be served, thanks to you."

"And yet," Lady Merchant pointed out, "an innocent man is still dead."

"Not entirely innocent, it seems," Miss Marple said. "The key to Mr. Brent's room had gone missing the night of the murder. He had assumed he had merely misplaced it, but it seems Mr. Evans had stolen it so he could break into his partner's room."

"Perhaps it's a case of the ends justify the means," Mr. Lester suggested. "If he were trying to expose embezzlement, where's the harm in a little petty theft?"

Miss Marple suddenly remembered that the government man himself had resorted to extortion upon his arrival here, something that she had still not explained to her own satisfaction.

"But he brought a gun with him," Abby reminded. "Perhaps he brought it for protection, but maybe instead he was planning his own revenge against his partner."

The conversation having now turned to the topic of guns, Captain Becker was, for the first time, seemingly interested as he quickly pointed out, "If the gun was brought for protection, then why wasn't it on his person when Mr. Horbury entered the room? Since the killer didn't even recognise who he was killing, the victim was obviously shot in the back from some distance, meaning the gun must've been carelessly set down elsewhere in the room."

Miss Marple nodded. "I guess we'll never know exactly what happened or what Mr. Evans' true motives were."

"But I'm still confused," Connor spoke up. "If the solicitor was in love with Katherine, why try to kill her on the cliff?"

"Because if HE couldn't have her, no one could," the soldier stated simply.

Miss Marple shook her head. "Good theory, Captain Becker, but exactly the opposite. He didn't try to kill Katherine; in fact, he did not want to see her harmed in any way, and certainly not arrested for a crime she didn't commit. But he was worried that Jess' theories might lead to such an arrest, so he felt the best way to protect her was to wait until Jess was alone and get rid of her."

"So he DID mean to kill me," Jess blurted out without thinking before shivering at the implications.

"But that don't make sense," Connor insisted. "By killing Jess, wouldn't he just be throwing more suspicion on himself?"

"Why?" Emily asked. "When we were certain to think the killer had mistaken Jess for Katherine, thanks to their similar hats."

"Exactly," Abby continued the thought. "After all, he'd killed the wrong person before, so he knew mistaken identities were a possibility. So why not throw us off the trail by thinking someone was after Katherine, thereby kicking her off the list of suspects?"

Connor smiled. "So by attacking Jess, he was killing two birds with one stone...so to speak," he added quickly, clearly not wanting to upset the girl.

"Yes," his wife concurred. "He got rid of the person who was trying to get Katherine arrested AND made us think Katherine herself was in danger and therefore no longer a suspect."

Jess, however, still looked confused. "But I still don't understand why Mr. Horbury would try to kill Mr. Brent in the first place. I mean, why kill someone over a woman he'd just met?"

"As I said earlier," Miss Marple explained, "love has the ability to make the most perfectly sane people behave quite irrationally. Surely you've each experienced this yourselves at one point or another?"

It was clear they all had, for Jess and her Captain self-consciously looked in opposite directions, Lady Merchant and her fiance shared a bashful smile, and Connor pulled his wife in closer for a warm hug.

"So are we done here?" Mr. Lester asked impatiently, checking his watch.

"Not quite," Miss Marple said. "One mystery has been solved, but I still have some questions about the other."

Mr. Anderson frowned. "What other?"

But before Miss Marple could explain, the air was filled with an ear-piercing electronic screech, followed by Connor's excited, "It's back!"

...

_to be continued_


	28. Chapter 28

_Chapter 28_

As the loud, shrill squeal continued, Mr. Lester bellowed, "This best not be one of your new modifications, Connor!"

The noise went away as Connor fiddled with the detector in his hand. "'Course not! I had to make do with what stuff I could find at jumble sales, so it's not perfected yet. But it's working." He grinned broadly as he added, "And we can go home now."

"It's the swirling light, isn't it?" Miss Marple asked. "That's what you've been waiting for."

Obviously they had momentarily forgotten her presence, and they now all looked nervously at one another, wondering how to answer her. Finally Mr. Lester said, "She's figured it out-we might as well tell her before she starts asking more questions."

But Captain Becker didn't seem to be in the mood for explanations. He impatiently stood and started helping the injured Jess to her feet as he insisted adamantly, "We should go."

The others all followed, including Miss Marple, who was determined to find out more. But as they reached the door to the crime scene, the handsome soldier turned to Mr. Anderson, asking, "Should I break it down?"

"No need," Mr. Anderson said, surreptitiously producing the room key from his pocket.

"Where did you get that?" Abby asked.

The Irishman shrugged. "Mr. Evans isn't the only one who knows how to pinch a key."

He placed the key in the lock and opened the door, and Miss Marple eagerly looked inside. The crime scene was still as they'd left it two nights previous except that now, when the oriental screen was moved aside, the swirling light could once again be seen.

"I knew it," Miss Marple mumbled to herself, wondering what exactly it was.

"Do we know where it leads?" Mr. Anderson asked.

Connor stared down at his detector. "About three days after we left."

Despite the seeming irrationality of his response, Miss Marple wasn't entirely surprised by it.

"To be precise," Connor went on, "three days, five hours, 43 minutes-"

Mr. Anderson was clearly no longer listening for he turned to the soldier, ordering, "Becker, you're with me," and the two of them walked into the light...and disappeared!

Miss Marple's gasp of surprise at what she'd just witnessed was drowned out by Connor finishing with, "Seven seconds, eight seconds, nine..."

"You have it down to the second?" Abby asked, clearly impressed, as she peered at the device her husband had made.

"Only for the ones what reopen," Connor explained, "so's we can figure out how much time has passed on the other side. I figured knowing the date down to the second for the Pleiocene ain't exactly likely to come in handy."

"That's brilliant!" Abby gushed proudly.

"So it's a doorway to another time," Miss Marple concluded aloud. "And you're...all from the future?" she tentatively guessed.

"Most of us, anyway," Jess said with a smile, nodding meaningfully towards Emily.

So that explained everything. Their strange clothes; their confusion over both where AND when they had arrived; why their IDs hadn't made sense; why they couldn't use their own currency; even the fact that Lady Merchant's manners seemed so different from the others'. And while Miss Marple had failed to solve this mystery, she did not berate herself, for doorways in time had never before figured into one of her murder investigation!

But she still had questions she wanted answered.

"So why did you come here?" she asked.

"We heard the gunshot," Jess explained, "and a second later Mr. Evans came stumbling through into Matt's arms. He barely managed to gasp out 'Katherine' before dying."

"He must have been trying to explain where the money had gone," Mr. Lester concluded.

"Or maybe he'd caught a glimpse of the man who shot him and thought she might be next?" Abby suggested.

Connor shrugged. "Guess we can't ask him now."

"So what did you do?" Miss Marple asked.

Lady Merchant frowned, clearly not approving of what had happened next. "Matt decided we should return the body to his own time, so he and Becker carried him back through...and I believe you know the rest," she concluded succinctly.

Miss Marple nodded. This was certainly unlike any locked door mystery she'd ever heard of before.

"But why did the light-the doorway-disappear afterwards?" she asked, still unclear on many facts.

Connor shook his head. "We still haven't figured out the why just yet. Each anomaly is slightly different-some stay open for ages, some move around, some never reopen. We're still working it all out."

So that's why Abby had been so anxious to keep an eye out for it-she didn't want it to return and have them miss their one opportunity to get home.

Whenever home was.

But before Miss Marple could inquire, Mr. Anderson and the Captain returned through the swirling light, appearing once again in the room.

"It's safe," the soldier announced. "It's the middle of the night-"

"Like I said," Connor interrupted, gesturing to his detector.

Captain Becker rolled his eyes and went on. "-so no one is about. We found a way to get back up to the ground floor and out of the hall."

"I don't suppose my wife is still about?" Mr. Lester asked, and Miss Marple realised that they must have disappeared without informing her, which didn't bode well for the government man.

The soldier shook his head as Mr. Anderson, clearly the team leader, stated firmly, "We should go."

"What's the hurry?" Connor asked. "We still got almost an hour till it closes."

"An hour-we know that?!" Jess asked incredulously.

Connor proudly gestured to his new detector. "We do now."

"You are truly brilliant," Abby enthused, giving her husband an admiring kiss.

"'Course!" Grinning, he teased, "In'it why you're marrying me?"

Ah, thought Miss Marple, another mystery clarified.

"Still," Mr. Anderson prompted, "we should probably go."

"You don't have to tell ME twice," Mr. Lester said, scurrying into the swirling light. He was shortly followed by Captain Becker and the Temples...or at least the couple who would soon be the Temples.

Mr. Anderson turned and handed the room key to Miss Marple. "You'll make sure this gets back to Inspector Harper?"

Miss Marple nodded, adding, "I'm not certain what I should tell him."

Mr. Anderson shrugged. "Tell him anything you'd like, though I doubt he'd believe the truth," he added with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

Lady Merchant smiled and offered her hand. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Marple."

"The pleasure was all mine," Miss Marple insisted before watching the couple turn and disappear together into the doorway through time.

Now alone together, Jess begged, "Please say goodbye to Inspector Harper for me. I feel bad leaving without an explanation."

"Don't worry," Miss Marple said, trying to think how best to break it to the lovesick man. "I'll let him-"

"Jess!" Captain Becker barked impatiently, appearing once again from the light and offering the injured girl his arm. "C'mon. You don't want to get stuck here."

Jess gave an imploring look to Miss Marple, who carefully avoided using the inspector's name as she replied, "I shall take care of everything." Locking eyes with the young girl, she subtly nodded her head towards the handsome soldier, stating pointedly, "And good luck."

The girl blushed and gave a grateful "Thank you," before leaning on Captain Becker and limping back into her own time.

Now alone in the hotel room, Miss Marple shook her head, wondering how she could ever explain all this? Despite his excellent detective skills, Inspector Harper would never believe what had really gone on behind closed doors.

After one last look as the mysterious light, Miss Marple replaced the oriental screen to its original position and exited the room, locking it behind her with a sigh. Booking Mr. Horbury and interrogating the Brents would surely take longer than an hour, and by then the doorway would be gone, according to Connor's calculations.

And what better way to pass that time than a spot of tea, Miss Marple thought to herself as she headed for the lobby.

...

_to be continued_


	29. Epilogue

_Epilogue_

"Hey."

Jess jumped at the sound of Becker's voice, quickly minimising the window she had been reading before turning to face the handsome soldier.

"Good morning," she greeted. "Did you enjoy your day off yesterday? It feels so good to be back home, doesn't it?"

Becker nodded. "So I just...I mean, I wasn't..."

Jess couldn't stand to see him stuttering out his apology so she quickly intervened. "You'd been arrested-you had every right to be in a bad mood."

She was pleased to see his shoulders relax at this, but it was only then that she noticed he was holding himself strangely. She didn't quite realise why his posture seemed so off until he pulled out from behind his back the large red hat he'd been attempting to hide. "Well, I...uh...got you this."

Jess couldn't help but smile-the hat was nearly identical to the one she'd lost over the cliff. "Thank you! It's lovely!" she enthused, grabbing the hat from him and immediately putting it on. "So? How does I look?"

"Ridiculous," Lester grumbled as he ambled up to the ADD. "I don't know why you wore it to the reception in the first place."

"Because it was a formal occasion and I wanted to look smart," Jess insisted. "It isn't every day that your boss gets honoured by the Minister, now, is it? And it was long overdue, if you ask me."

But Lester wasn't taking the compliment. "If you're looking for another day off, Parker, forget it."

Jess rolled her eyes and changed the subject. "So how's your wife?"

Lester nodded. "She's fine. Of course, she would've been better if I hadn't left the hotel receipt in my coat pocket."

"You didn't!" Becker exclaimed as Jess gasped in surprise.

"I did, unfortunately. Trying to explain why I'd shared lodgings with not one but two young ladies for several days was no picnic, but I was finally able to convince her it was all a wind-up. I mean, I could hardly have been having a liaison before I was even born, now, could I?"

Jess gave a sigh of relief, thankful a more serious misunderstanding had been averted. But before she could comment, the chime on the lift sounded, and they all turned to see Matt and Emily entering.

"Glad you could join us," Lester stated drily, glancing pointedly at his watch, as the couple sauntered down the stairs into Ops.

Matt, however, didn't even acknowledge his superior's sardonic tone, instead merely declaring, "I'd like to hold a debriefing with the senior staff in your office in fifteen minutes."

Lester nodded, and Jess swung her chair back around to her keyboard, announcing, "I'll let the others know," before sending a brief message over comms.

"Are Abby and Temple even here?" Becker asked. "I haven't seen them all morning."

Jess nodded. "They got in super early-Abby was anxious to spend time with Rex, and Connor was of course eager to perfect his new detector."

"Just so long as he fixes that bloody awful alarm," Lester mumbled as he turned and started back towards his office. Matt and Becker shared a wordless look before walking off as well, leaving Jess alone with her friend.

"Let me guess," Emily said, stepping up next to the ADD and eyeing Jess' new hat with an amused look. "A peace offering from Becker?"

Jess laughed. "I wouldn't exactly call it a 'peace offering'," she insisted, "although *I* might've needed one if he'd seen what I was just researching." She quickly brought up the window she'd previously been looking at and showed it to her friend. "It seems our Inspector got married only a few years after we left," she said, scrolling down to the scanned photo of the now decades-old wedding announcement.

Emily smirked. "Interesting," she said, looking pointedly at her friend.

Jess blushed. "She doesn't look THAT much like me," she insisted, although she, too, could see the resemblance. She quickly went on, "They had several kids together, and grandkids, too. And he ended up getting a commendation for the work he did on a murder investigation in 1954, so I guess he didn't really need our help-or Miss Marple's-after all."

Her friend nodded. "I am glad things worked out for him. And for you," she said, gesturing once again to the hat still on Jess' head.

Self-consciously taking it off and hanging it from one of her monitors, Jess tried to change the subject by asking, "And you?"

"Inspector Harper might not have needed Miss Marple's help, but we clearly needed yours," she replied cryptically.

"What do you mean?"

As explanation, Emily simply held out her left hand.

Jess gasped with delight at the simple diamond that now adorned her friend's ring finger. "You're engaged!"

Emily nodded. "After having played fiance for several days, Matt and I talked last night and decided to make it official."

Jess hopped off her seat onto her good ankle so she could give her friend a warm hug. "I'm so happy for you!"

"Thank you." Emily's elated grin spoke volumes. "We owe it all to you." Her expression grew a bit more serious as she added, "Though I do hope we have made the correct decision. After all, Miss Marple said that love has the ability to make the most perfectly sane people behave quite irrationally."

"This isn't irrational," Jess exclaimed, "it's PERFECT!" She couldn't have been happier for her two friends. And to think, it had all come about simply because Jess had been looking for a good excuse for why she and Emily should be allowed in to see their incarcerated friends!

Hopping up on her chair once more and turning back to the ADD, Jess caught sight of her new red hat and couldn't help but smile. Becker had certainly been behaving quite irrationally ever since they'd first gone through the anomaly.

And, after all, Miss Marple HAD been right about everything else...

THE END


End file.
